Voltron: Our Last Hope
by stringless starlight
Summary: It was a glorious thing to be chosen for something greater than himself. At least, that was what Lance had once imagined. (a voltron novelization)
1. About the Story

**INFORMATIVE MESSAGES**

 _Here is everything you need to know about this novelization._

 _First and foremost, I want to warn everyone over the dark themes that are sure to rise up as the story continues (not just in this book, but the sequels I provide). While the television production was stated to be aimed towards a younger crowd, this is_ _ **not.**_ _It is also not for those easily made upset when certain topics/conflicts are brought into the circumstances. These characters are going to suffer. It will grow to get worse and worse as they progress and some of the things I intend to provide in the storylines may not be for you. NOTE: things you may find here include the following; death, description in bodily wounds, mentions of suicide, emotional instability, sexual violation, etc. Be aware of these risks._

 _This story is my own. The beginning will go slowly and will follow the television show's guidelines up until a certain point. After that, the journeys taken will be solely made up by yours truly. However, certain episodes from the show may appear here either because they're necessary to forward any future plans I have or simply because I had a sort of fondness for them. Again, development will be slow. Remember when the team took one whole episode to form Voltron at conscious will? Ha ha yea, that's not gonna be happening here._

 _I understand people suffer disdain for certain ships so I'll list them here. That way, there are no surprises. There will be romance between Pidge and Lance (although Lance will still suffer an unrequited love for Allura at first). Another thing to be noted is that Lance is bisexual here and will pursue a possible romance with both genders. Meanwhile with Keith and Allura, it will be a one sided sort of infatuation on Allura's part (Keith will never feel the same). However, this is destined to end terribly. Keith's love interest in this is going to be Hunk and vice versa, and before you wrinkle your nose! I know its a rare-pair! I'm just so in love with their dynamic and after shifting back and forth between if I should or shouldn't write it, I've decided to go for it. And if you give it a chance, I think you'll like it too. Of course, Hunk and Shay will also briefly be touched on, as it was in the show. Lotor and Allura can be found here (like, majorly). Adam and Shiro's relationship will be more in depth here. Finally, Klance will have honorable mentions. What might've been if a certain red paladin had been brave enough._

 _Finally, I'd like to once again remind everyone that this is my take on the story. My take on the characters and how they will be developed. Certain characters that died in the television show will not die here (it's kinda pretty obvious who I'm talking about but not_ _ **just**_ _that particular person). And at the same time, characters who did not die in the show_ _ **are certain to die here.**_ _I will never state who or how or when._

 _Some of the things mentioned here are destined to happen way way way into the future. Think maybe book three. However, it doesn't change that they are destined to happen. In the meantime, just enjoy the ride! Thank you so much for your curiosities and your interest!_

 _\- B._


	2. And So, He Shattered

**_For Voltron,_**

 ** _and those as dedicated as myself_**

* * *

Iverson's office had become a thing of familiarity to Keith. Much like his dorm room, he had grown terribly used to the four surrounding walls; the tall desk riddled with important documents, and the intimidating man that glared at him from behind it. In the past, he had suffered a guilt that followed Iverson's backlash to many of the stunts he'd pulled. Not for his General's sake, but for the man that had originally brought him here. Keith was always insisting, with the bit of selflessness he could muster up, that Shiro abandon him and cease this waste of time. Shiro responded the way Keith had become begrudgingly accustomed to; ruffling his dark mess of hair and assuring him he would never consider the option. Although he scowled, Keith had let himself grow an odd sort of warmth towards him.

Perhaps that was why his reaction to Shiro's disappearance had been so drastic.

It hadn't taken very long, Shiro's crashing had been the main talk of the Garrison. Keith supposed his pain should've been temporary, that it should've been nothing short of mild irritation. Here he was again at step one, on his own like he had been for so long before. Instead, he had _grieved_ Shiro's absence. He'd already been sick, an incurable disease had taken up rest within his body and, as a result, he was slowly nearing his death. Keith had imagined he'd be there with him. Grip his hand tight as the final light in his eyes gave out, listen to his last goodbye and hold it close to his heart for years to come. This had been so unfairly _sudden._ He'd awoken that morning with Shiro still in his life, just to have it be so abruptly snatched from him by words the other kids whispered when they thought he wasn't listening.

Keith's mood had turned from annoyed and unresponsive to something darker than his classmates intended to bother with. Everyone steered themselves from the constant anger alive in his eyes, nobody teased or picked on him behind his back again. He quit existing, they ignored him as though it was the safest bet they could manage. Even that boy, _McClain,_ had dismissed him from being his apparent rival. Keith was _truly_ alone after Shiro's tragic death, and it put him in constant bitterness. The only one who still acknowledged him had been Griffin, a boy he'd pertained more than just a few fights with. Much like McClain, this boy had a curious supply of hatred for Keith. They'd both come from the same orphanage together, both had been utterly seduced by the stars and stared wonderingly out their window during the night. Keith and Griffin knew one another better than either one of them cared to admit, but there was one very damaging problem to cause this conflict between them. Keith was so much better a pilot than Griffin could have ever dreamed to be. What was more insulting, Keith's passion for the cosmos did not compare to Griffin's. He didn't have the same desperate, hungry light in his gaze, didn't toss and turn from an unquenchable thirst to explore. Griffin was true to the mysteries of space, Keith was trying his damnedest to flee this planet.

Iverson's office was swiftly turning into a second home for Keith. Today, that home had been intruded upon by another. Iverson had left both himself and Griffin alone to sit on the ground and glare at each other, nothing but silence had ensued since then. It didn't take much for Keith to snap anymore, any little thing would do. And it appeared, luckily enough, Griffin was the one willing to deliver his fix. Keith looked for anything out of him, from the slight disrespect in his voice to the brush of his shoulder when they passed each other in the hallways. Today in the cafeteria, Griffin had pinned him with a look Keith decided he didn't like very much and, in return, had punched him square in his left eye. A fight had broken out between them, children had gathered and cheered them on; creating around them a massive circle that made it particularly hard for the teachers to push through. Inevitably, they had been reached. But not before they managed a few hard earned blows against one another.

Griffin's eye was beginning to swell with time and Keith's lip was crusted with blood. Griffin had hit him directly in his mouth and Keith had torn into the flesh with his own teeth as he was sent backwards. The very first time he and Griffin had brawled had been an unnecessary accident. Careless words had fallen like acid from a soulless smirk and burned Keith to his core: _"Did you show off for the police too? Did you put on a little skit about how you'd killed your own parents?"_ Keith had lost sight after that, an explosion erupted inside of him and he'd reacted with uncontrolled violence. Then, he'd drowned in the misery of his guilt. Even more so when Shiro did everything within his power to keep Iverson from dismissing Keith as a student at the Garrison.

Things had drastically changed from those times. There was no guilt to be had each time he and Griffin were pried away from one another. Just the relief that, for a little while now, he could breathe easy again. _Shiro would be so disappointed in you._ Although the voice was small, it still lived inside him. Sooner or later, Keith knew it would ultimately die along with the only father figure he'd ever known.

"You must be so frustrated," Griffin's bitter tone shattered the deafening silence between them, breaking Keith from his rapid train of thought. "That's why you've been acting out lately, right? Because Shiro died before you could get your hands on him. Shame he never got the chance to see what a mistake it was to pick _you_ over me."

The static noise in Keith's head made it throb and he wondered what might happen if he attacked Griffin for the second time in a single day. Iverson leaving them alone in this office for a brief amount of time had not been poor thought on his behalf. He expected them to sit still, like good cadets who's wishes were to remain in the Garrison. In all honesty, Keith's interest to stay was nearly nonexistent. His willingness to go on lived in the amount of effort Shiro had put into keeping him here.

The door opened and in walked Iverson, his posture stiff and his expression as stern as it always was. Surprisingly, he wasn't alone. Following his entrance was a woman wearing a long white lab coat, her mousy brown hair pulled back into an agonizingly tight bun. In her hands she cradled a heavy tan box with two wires protruding from both the left and the right side of it. She didn't smile, but she still managed to appear so mysteriously gentle.

"Look alive cadets," Iverson demanded in his raspy voice, both Keith and Griffin exchanged a look of concern. "This woman here is Angelica Odis, she's the head of our technical department." As Iverson gestured towards her, Keith took immediately to observing her. She was tall, taller than Iverson, and her face exposed the weathered lines of familiar exhaustion. Her hair was streaked with tendrils of gray and her eyes, blue, looked as though they had paled overtime. Even still it wasn't hard to tell that, during her youth, she had been strikingly beautiful. "You should thank her with every inch of your sorry asses," Iverson suggested as he turned his stormy gaze back towards the students. "My original plan was to come in and expel you both and send you back to the orphanage. Miss Odis convinced me to give you another chance."

"Wait," Griffin dared to speak without permission and turned his gaze towards the General in surprise and fear. "You're going to expel _both_ of us?"

Iverson focused an intense glare towards the other boy and responded in a low voice, one that suggested no further argument on his behalf. "Did I stutter cadet?"

Griffin turned his eyes shamefully towards the ground and didn't speak out of turn a second time. Keith felt an odd stab of sympathy in his chest and worked to keep it from his face. Griffin often antagonized, but Keith had been letting him do it. Although he might've lost his passion for the unknown vastness of space, it didn't necessarily mean Griffin did. Odis remained indifferent to the nature of the two as she made her way fully inside of the room. It was odd that she wore a mask of such carelessness, yet she had reached out and halted Iverson in his resolve to be rid of the troublesome pilots. In Keith's minimum experiences, he was used to kindness wearing a smile. Odis knelt on the floor and set the device between them, Keith was even more surprised with her gesture to join them. He and Griffin were down here, after all, because they had lost the privilege of occupying a chair. "This has never failed me," she explained lightly, two connected wires between her hands. Keith noted they had what appeared to be little white suctions at the ends of them. "It's used to read through a person's thoughts and emotions. It will show you both what's going on through your minds, help you get a much better understanding of one another."

Keith felt his eyes stretch. Although she claimed one hundred percent success, he felt perhaps he and Griffin had a particularly _special_ case between them. One that suggested they shouldn't cross over the boundaries of one another's minds. Griffin clearly agreed; as Odis turned to him and reached towards him, he resisted timidly. Iverson looked like he wanted to berate him for daring to defy her, but Odis lifted a hand to silence him without even looking to him. Keith was astonished by this woman.

"Now listen," she told Griffin in a voice more gentle than either of them had heard in a long time. "I can't force you to do this, it's your own privacy and I understand your hesitance. But it's all I can do for you at this point."

Griffin appeared terribly perplexed as he stared in mayhem towards the box and the trailing wires connected to it. Keith waited eagerly for his decision. What he didn't realize was that whatever Griffin chose in that instant, he'd be deciding on Keith's behalf as well. As suspected, Griffin stiffened his upper lip and held steady as Odis leaned forward once more and connected the wires to his temple. Once that was accomplished, she turned to Keith next and did the same. She moved slowly, giving him the same, silent option as Griffin to decide against this. Obediently, Keith held still and shut his eyes until the wires were connected and he felt Odis move away. "Now then," she began, still in that airy whisper of a voice. "I'm going to turn on the machine, you'll be hit with one another's emotions very instantly. Just take a deep breath. You _will_ get used to it." She flipped a switch at the corner of the device and, as promised, Keith was hit with a torrent of foreign emotions. _Oh,_ he thought and sat up a little straighter, exactly at the same moment Griffin did. Although these feelings rising up inside of him - the hate, the anger, the confusion - were all things he'd associated with in the past, they came in a sense that almost felt like an invasion. These feeling did not belong to _him,_ and he was heavily aware of how attached to Griffin they were.

 _Deep breaths._ Keith closed his eyes and did as instructed, focusing on inhalation through his mouth and letting it out through his nose. Just as Odis had said, he and Griffin's feeling went from intermingled panic to semi relaxed. Although it still felt quite intrusive to be so connected with a boy he'd never so much as considered his friend, he supposed he'd endured worse things. Thoughts came to mind. Flustered, frustrated ones. Why was he still so pretty even when his face was covered in bruises?

 _Wait, hold on._

Keith realized these thoughts were not his own, and that he hadn't even opened his eyes yet to make such an observation. Instantly, he was insulted by the delicate title Griffin attempted to thrust upon him. Parting his lids, he threw a furious glare at the other cadet and felt the thought was retracted as instantly as it had come. Replaced by both outrage and embarrassment. ' _Let's see what_ you're _hiding Kogane,'_ Keith flinched, startled when he heard Griffin's echo through his mind. Much like a thought, it sounded almost distant and private. He wasn't able to remark on it very long, for a second later he felt the thread of his memories being tugged apart as easily as untying a shoelace.

A random one came to the forefront of his thoughts so suddenly, randomly picked from a selection, and played before Keith could stop it. This was an event that had happened a long while ago, _before_ Shiro's disappearance.

 _Keith had stared wonderingly towards Sawyer many times before when he decided that, perhaps, he was simply bored with the thought of girls. It could've been that he wasn't interested in the prospect of flitting his days away, romanticizing something that could be defined bluntly as lust. It could've been that it just wasn't_ girls _that did it for him. Although, he'd had a lingering distaste for people since before he could remember so perhaps it didn't have anything to do with his sexuality. Whatever the cause, he was annoyingly confused as to what about this girl it was that drew in all his fellow cadets like a moth to a flame._

 _She was pretty, he gave her that much, but in the most traditional way. She had bright yellow hair almost stick straight and pulled back from her eyes in a high ponytail. She had a pouty mouth and a bit of an overbite, her two front teeth poked out just beneath her upper lip. Her skin was so clear, it was almost unnatural, and she carried with her a soothing scent of vanilla._

 _It was today during lunch that McClain's most loyal companion (from what Keith could tell at least) had encouraged him to approach her and ask her out on a date. The kindness on his part influenced around the table and turned to excited goading from the other cadets. McClain, flushing wildly from embarrassment from all the attention, murmured excuses under his breath regarding why it was so unintelligent to approach at a time like this. Keith frowned at the plentiful goods sitting patiently on his tray and decided he wouldn't eat much again today. Being so surrounded by all these people usually made his hunger decrease, he was much too distracted by the way his skin itched from the noise of incoherent babbling._

 _Keith rose with his tray in hand. Unfortunately, he had dismissed the conversation of his table from his attention and had missed McClain's sudden resolve to speak with Sawyer. The table had broken into cheers, startling Keith and causing him to whirl around in surprise, and the instinctive decision followed in disaster. McClain was right behind him, Keith's abrupt change in course caused him to barrel directly into him and, sadly enough, the barely touched tray of food in his hand. His small carton of milk splashed against the other boy's uniform and a dollop of ketchup smeared into the fabric._

 _Keith gracelessly lost his balance. As McClain complained_ "Hey!" _he lost his grip entirely and his tray fell to the floor with an obnoxious clatter. The cafeteria quieted , and all the eyes that turned his way pierced him like a thousand arrows all at once. After briefly observing the scene, a ripple of laughter broke out among the students, the table they had originally sat at included. McClain leaned forward and practically hissed at Keith, blissfully pulling him away from the terror of being the center of everyone's interest._

 _"Why did you_ do _that?" he demanded in an angry whisper. "Why are you always screwing up?"_

 _Keith didn't really want to fight, not in front of everyone like this. He reacted without thought, his only goal being to fix everything. Contrary to popular belief and rumor among his classmates - aside from the main one that really set a title for him - Keith wasn't_ mean. _But social interaction was a concept that often escaped him. So he reached out and tried to desperately to brush off McClain's uniform, as though his hands had the magical ability to undo the messes he made. It was short lived, however, because his wrists were restrained and Keith found himself blinking up with worry towards a blushing McClain._

 _He fumbled with his words for a minute, Keith could hear the gentle_ 'ooos' _of his classmates as the situation worsened. Finally, McClain released him with a forceful shove back and brushed by him, keeping his head down as he rushed to the exit. Keith looked after him but resisted following. He wanted to escape as well, but intuition suggested it unwise to go the same way McClain had gone. Turning, he felt the eyes of his peers as he rushed to the exit on the other side of the cafeteria._

 _'That was...interesting.'_ Keith saw Griffin's toying smirk but was conflicted by the strange rush of resentment he suddenly had towards McClain. Or, more accurately, _Griffin's_ sudden resentment. Griffin continued to pick through his brain, Keith realized he hadn't worked up the courage to actually do something about it. He could talk to Griffin in here without fear of anyone else overhearing, perhaps even apologize for his behaviors. _'You're hiding something here,'_ Griffin poked at something deep within his memories and the delicacy they were made of was enough to wake Keith from his hesitance. He coaxed Griffin backwards when he trifled instead through _his_ memories and thoughts.

There were pictures here, images of a man that smiled like it made him sore. Each one he touched was splintered with hate and outrage, Keith veered away from them and chose not to ask questions.

There was another set of images here. Each one was occupied by a doe eyed little girl, her short brown hair looked like it had been trimmed down with safety scissors. Touching these brought a torrent of different emotions. There was despair and agony, but the gentle fabrics were also lined with warmth and an unwavering amount of undivided love. _'Is this your sister?'_ Keith wondered.

 _'Yes,'_ was Griffin's somber reply. All sense of challenge between them was slowly melting away the longer they remained connected like this. He didn't appear to mind very much as Keith sorted through the soft images he had of his sibling. Because each one hurt him whenever he made contact, he imagined something very terrible must have happened to her. However, out of respect for Griffin, he resisted the curiosity. Keith felt Griffin's appreciation pour through him like warm honey and thought, for an excited moment, that this might actually work.

But then he stumbled across something not meant for his eyes.

More images, but this time? He found they were of himself. They were diverse, some of them dark and filled with the frustrated anger he expected to find there. The other ones surprised him, painted him gently in soft colors, and these made him feel like his chest was going to collapse. He caught on fast and understood all too well what these meant, his face heated with color as he tried to scramble backwards before he dug himself too much deeper into a hole.

Too late. Griffin's face went from lukewarm to pinched with humiliated outrage. Unfortunately, there was no rewinding time to just seconds before. Seconds before Keith _knew_ what lied behind all the anger and hatred Griffin often tossed his way. _'Shut up,'_ Griffin ordered. Although Keith had not breathed a word, his panicked confusion practically screamed at them both. He couldn't turn it off. Griffin's feelings for him were not the problem here. Keith realizing them was, and he was terrified of the outcome. _'Just shut the hell up Kogane. Who are you to judge me?! At least I never fucking killed my parents!'_

The harmful words brought an unbidden memory rushing to the surface in rapid flashes. Griffin tore into it before Keith could work up the strength to swallow it dry:

 _A bathtub filled with icy water. Her hands tearing into his hair as she cried and held him underneath, ignoring him as he thrashed and fought like a rabid animal. "Drown you little rat! Just die already- !"_

Keith shoved Griffin back from his head so hard it sent his physical form tumbling backwards. Odis and Iverson moved to separate them before they could even reach one another, but Keith wasn't aiming anywhere for Griffin. He tore the wires away and stumbled up on clumsy feet. He refused to meet Griffin's eyes, to meet any of theirs, as he shoved forward and ignored Iverson's scratchy voice calling for his return. There was nothing left for him here. Shiro was dead. Griffin had witnessed something to his story he'd never wanted anyone to know of. He renounced his honorable position as a Garrison cadet.

Keith fled through the hallways with abandon, didn't stop to excuse himself from the blurry faces he ran into in his graceless attempt of escape. There was only one thing he needed now. One thing, and he would leave the Garrison without ever looking back. He'd been on the verge of expulsion as it was. He was alone in this world and Keith was going to _embrace_ it this time. It was either he did that or perished, and he would be damned if he let this godforsaken universe get the better of him.

Keith burst through the front doors of the Garrison, shutting his eyes against the wind as it lashed his cheeks. Now that he was alone, he broke apart. Tears slid past tightly sealed lids, but his fists clenched at his sides with a new sort of resolve. "I was unwilling to listen before," he called to the hot, dry land that stretched for miles ahead of him. "I was unwilling, but I'm listening now. _Please."_

There was nothing. A harsh wind and a merciless beating sun, but the setting remained disappointingly serene. Keith didn't move, didn't open his eyes, didn't unfurl his fingers. With the most patience he'd ever shown in such a _long_ while, he sat perfectly still and waited for it to come to him.

And when it did, he had to swallow his sob.

A roar shook the very ground beneath his feet, threatening to break it apart with it's force. It was the demanding cry of a beast more ferocious than anything he'd ever known. It reached him as it had the first time. And like before, he was the only one that had heard it. Roughly, without forgiveness, he wiped his eyes with the sleeve of his uniform and took off. He didn't know exactly where he was going, or what his plan was. He didn't know if this thing he was looking for - wherever it's destination - was something good or something never to be discovered. Whatever the case, he would dedicate every last bit of himself to it and nothing else.

 _I will find you_. _If it's the last thing I do._

* * *

 **A few things I'd like to clarify before we get into this. I do not, in any way, own** ** _Voltron._** **Next! I don't want this to be seen in any way as a "fix it fic." This is a different version of the story but everything I produce was birthed from the television series and I respect that as a whole. I don't view my style of the show better than the original.** ** _(Admittedly, there were things I disagreed with that were featured in the show and might very well be altered here but that doesn't necessarily mean I'm right)._**

 **Finally, thanks for taking this ride with me. It's gonna be a long one so you better hang on tight! Let's call this** ** _The Legendary Defenders_** **trilogy yea? I like it, I'm going with it whateves.**


	3. Keep Your Pretty Mouth Shut

**PART ONE:** ** _The Rise of Voltron_**

Chapter 1 - _Keep Your Pretty Mouth Shut_

 _Lance recalled his father had once said to him; "Encuentra lo que amas. Deja es te arruine."_

 _Find what you love. Let it ruin you._

* * *

He was simply filling in until someone _else_ came along and proved to be the better pilot. Until the Garrison decided they no longer needed the second rate and threw him out to try his hand again.

Not that he wouldn't. Lance couldn't possibly imagine his life going in any other sort of direction. If the Garrison stated he wasn't good enough now, he promised he would be later. Or next year. Or however long it took for them to finally _see_ him. For now, he was just grateful to be sitting in this cockpit. The stars shone white and distant in the black void of space, a spherical land of ivory came gliding into view and a pair of eager blue eyes took in the glowing sight with a hopeful smile. Part one had been painstakingly simple; locating Kerberos. Now came the real challenge; landing safely and extracting the victims in need of rescuing. _Razzle dazzle time._

 _"Galaxy Garrison flight log, five eleven fourteen,"_ Lance recited smoothly. "Begin descent to Kerberos for rescue mission."

Lance coaxed the vessel into something close to a dive and sped along to meet his destination. The feeling he received from plunging dramatically towards the atmosphere was heavenly, his pulse accelerated; he was _alive_ when he was flying. Unfortunately, not everyone would agree. Strapped so securely to a seat behind him was another presence; a boy shifted and grit his teeth so hard, the sound of them scraping together carried across the distance. "Lance, _God in heaven,_ can you keep this thing straight?" Hunk peeled open his eyes and peered pleadingly towards the cockpit, both he and Lance knew full well he was capable of doing exactly that. The improbability that the designated pilot would be so humble as to take the safe route of _anything_ was the real issue here.

Even so, Lance pulled up just enough to appease his comrade and assured him with an apologetic shrug of his thin shoulders. "Hunk would you _relax?"_ he asked without shifting in his chair to look at him. "I was just getting a feel for the stick. If you _really_ wanna see me go a little off the grid I suppose I could..." A telltale smirk spread across his face as he tilted the ship just slightly off course, slowly threatening in a playful nature to make it worse. Hunk protested with a pathetic noise through his teeth and gripped the edges of his chair just in case things turned a little more daring than he liked.

"Dude, seriously, you know there's only _so much_ I can handle when it comes to flying," Hunk reasoned. Lance rolled his eyes and lifted his ship back on its trail. In spite of his brilliance as an engineer (and general cadet of the Garrison), Hunk had a tendency to become rather _queasy_ when it came to escapades such as this. While it was fun to jest, Lance really didn't want to pay the consequences that came with a sick and frightened Hunk.

"Hey guys?" A third voice pierced the air with it's sharpness. "How about, just this once, we do a mission that doesn't end with Hunk's guts all over the place?" Pidge was seated in front of a large white screen bearing the sprawling of a map, his chin rested on thin fingers. He had barely looked up from his focus during this entire process, his circular glasses pooled with the soft light from his computer. Hunk shot him an unappreciative glance.

"Lance was the one-"

"I know," Pidge replied, sounding more than a little irritable as he turned a pointed glare to the boy at fault. Lance _did_ turn in his chair to regard him, meeting his signature scowl with a sly grin of his own.

"Don't be such a downer Pidge," he scolded with a sarcastic wag of his finger. "Members of _Team Lance_ are required to always be wearing their happy faces. Can't you give me just a _little_ smile?"

"Team Lance?" Pidge answered, perking a brow at him. Lance was disappointed but not surprised to see his request went ignored. "I don't think I'd ever sign up for anything so degrading. You must be _confused-"_

"I'm never confused!" Lance declared. "I'm the pilot so I get to decide the team name. And you, _tesoro de mi corazón,_ are an honorary member of Team Lance."

"Well if that's the case," Pidge began, but whatever he'd been about to say was drowned out by the sudden chirp of their alarm system. His eyes widened briefly, like he had momentarily forgotten his position during the bickering, and turned to examine the pulsating blue dot on his map. "We've picked up a distress beacon!" Pidge announced, unable to mask his note of excitement. It was rare to see him express an emotion that wasn't so terribly sullen, Lance might've teased him over the slight crack in exterior if not for the importance of their mission. Besides, it was an oddly nice thing to see him smiling so lively.

"Alright team, look alive," Lance took the initiative with simplistic ease. "Pidge, track coordinates."

Pidge did as asked with a quiet _'on it'_ before falling naturally into his work. The ship gave a soft moan and trembled uneasily, much to Hunk's clear displeasure. "Lance please, _cut it out!"_ He practically begged now.

Lance took very little pity on the fellow cadet, barely sparing him a glance over his shoulder. "Oh this one's on you buddy," he said. "We've got a hydraulic stabilizer out."

Hunk bit his lip and seemed to remember he had a job to do himself. The screen he'd set aside in his misery was pulled back by clammy hands, his eyes trailed over the codes and numbers until he found the issue. Thick fingers danced across the screen in an attempt to resolve it, but the ship only seemed to shiver in protest to his workings. The motion caused him to freeze, digits still poised in position as he gave a strained swallow and whispered a soft _'oh no,'_ his practical surrender to whatever was bubbling up in his gut.

Lance, with a hearing keener than his sight, whipped his head around to give Hunk a disapproving glower from the cockpit. "No no," he said in a tone intolerable. "No no no no no, fix _now,_ puke _later."_

Hunk obeyed, or, he did his dearest at an attempt. A few more buttons blinked white under his fingertips, only for the device to make a sound that indicated its own variation of refusal. The shaking commenced harder than before, enraged that Hunk had tried to soothe its tantrum; it nearly wailed in desperate protest. "I've lost contact!" Pidge shouted from the side, his fingers hung over his keypad in useless defeat and he sent their _much needed_ engineer a glare sharper than the edge of a kitchen knife. "The _shaking_ is interfering with our sensors."

 _Dios,_ he was so mean sometimes. Even still, this mission was slipping through Lance's grasp at a _progressively_ rapid pace and, if he couldn't get Hunk to regain the footing they all needed, he might just flunk this up yet again. "Hunk, _come on,"_ Lance insisted in a voice a little more encouraging than Pidge's. "This is literally all I need you to-"

"It's not responding," Hunk replied, his voice graveled by torment. With a pathetic grunt, he shoved the screen aside and tore the seat-belt from his chest, pushing himself up on his feet and bending over to try and recapture his own breath. Clearly, he had matters much more worrisome than what his teammates needed from him in that instant.

An obnoxious beeping summoned Lance's attention, successfully distracting him from his losing battle. The tech in his windshield circled a specific spot against the snowy hills of Kerberos, targeting where the earlier call of distress had come from. "Hey guys!" Lance shouted excitedly, peering with an enigmatic smile spreading across his features. "We found them, preparing for approach on visual!"

Pidge's eyes brightened behind his glasses, Lance didn't miss the way he shot a regrettable look towards the screen at his affirmation. It was gone just as quickly as it had come, and he was all business once more. "I don't think that's advisable," he said. "Not given our mechanical and. . ." At his side, Hunk moaned in clear despair and lifted the lid to something undoubtedly important. Pidge wrinkled his nose in unsympathetic disgust as Hunk shamelessly stuck his head inside the dark little hold and vomited up what last bit of deserved respect he had. ". . .And gastrointestinal issues."

Hunk didn't lift his head from the hold but still managed to offer a muffled _'agreed'_ to vouch for his teammate.

"Stop _worrying,"_ Lance dismissed, addressing them with a lazy sweep of his eyes. There was no way he was pulling back, not _now_ when they were so close to accomplishing their goal. And besides, he had resisted showing off his skills as a pilot _thus far,_ and knew he could pull this off without the hitch everyone was expecting of him. "This baby can take it," he went on and offered the dashboard an affectionate smile. _"Can't you sweetie?"_ He gave the surface a soft pat and, in return, the ship gave another rough shudder and groaned almost disagreeably. Lance snatched his hand back like he had broken something and gazed at the pointed looks his teammates gave. "Uh, see?" he said with a smile that seemed painfully forced. "She was _nodding._ She was nodding..."

Lance turned away from them and their deeply unconvinced stares. Although the ship was practically screaming from all sectors, a repeated warning that they _relent_ lest they pay a terrible price, Lance was in his element. He loved this. The rush of adrenaline coursing through his veins, the odds being roughly stacked against him, the idea that he could _still_ manage to come out of this victorious no matter the cost and prove everyone pointing their noses down at him _condescendingly wrong._ It was magnificent. It was an overwhelming wrench of delight twisting in his gut. _He loved this._

"Pidge," he instructed, just a little breathless. "Hail down on our victims and let them know their rescuers have arrived."

Though Pidge was indignant, he rose out of his seat and grabbed the tiny communicator set in a holster at the ceiling. His thumb pressured a red button and he spoke into the device with his most professional tone of voice. _"Attention Lunar vessel-"_

He cut off as the ship gave a harsh jolt. The abruptness caused his footing to slip and he collided into a graceless heap on the floor. Lance shot a look at the pathetic display from the corner of his eye. "What are you _doing,"_ he scolded. "Put on your seat belt! And Hunk, _stop_ that shaking!"

Hunk opened his mouth to retort, but his face pinched suddenly in nausea and he stuffed his head back into the tiny box in his hand. Lance breathed out in exasperation. God they were a mess, but presentation no longer mattered. Lance had lost the chance to finish this and come out looking sparkly at the end, but at least he could still very well beat their goal.

Pidge had tucked himself back into the safety of his harness and tried a second time to make contact into the communicator. _"Attention Lunar vessel,"_ he said again. "This is _Galaxy Garrison Rescue Craft,_ one victor six three tango. Coming in for landing and extraction, against crew _recommendation."_ He added the last part with a knowing glance in Lance's direction.

Lance didn't acknowledge him with his eyes, but his grip around the handles tightened quite drastically. "No time for your mutinous comments now, Pidge," he said as a broad smile swept along his mouth. "They're going under and we're going in."

The ship sank forward under Lance's command. Due to some of the errors that remained unfixed in the control systems, it was more than just a little difficult to enforce the direction he wanted to go in, and this led to the inescapable path that would take them directly beneath an overhang. A relatively _small_ overhang no less. His heart thumped, logic demanded he pull back and find a different way, but time was of the essence. Lance wanted to utterly _wow_ everyone when he defeated this mission in a way no one would have ever deemed possible. He was so enraptured in his own future glory that he hadn't noticed Pidge had shuffled in beside his chair, not until his smaller hands wrapped around the back of it for support.

"Watch out for that overhang!" he directed in a notably shrill voice, pointing it out with a directive finger. Lance bristled but refused to lose focus. He couldn't afford it, not now when he was so close. He was the leader of this operation and that meant he needed to portray an air of confidence. If he panicked, everyone else would too.

"No worries!" Lance replied, always chipper. Always certain. "If anyone's got this its me, you know what they called me my first year of flight school?" He looked over his shoulder to regard Pidge, who looked like he had a number of guesses just waiting to be revealed on the very tip of his tongue. Lance swiftly provided the answer, robbing Pidge the satisfaction of demonstrating a quick wit. "They called me the _tailor_ because of how I _thread the needle."_

But everyone knew that talk was cheap. If he wanted to make a legitimately good impression on everyone, on Pidge - the boy who'd refused him the time of day since they first met - he would have to be willing to deliver. Lance turned the ship just slightly, enough to fit through the small opening to the overhang he was _certain._ While he coaxed the vessel onward he whispered words of dramatic encouragement, the only thing that could stop him now was Death himself. Both Hunk and Pidge insisted his reconsideration, but Lance was not to be shifted of thought when he was so wired into it already. The entrance to the overhang came about, the head of the ship barely made it through when it shook so hard it sent Lance's vision scattering. The screen on his windshield turned to static for a brief moment, then flashed a bright red sign of _DANGER!_ over and over again. Hunk, who had quit vomiting long enough to venture back to his designated chair and take up the screen in his hand once again read the same message and immediately found his conclusion.

Although they all could've probably surmised what tragedy had become of them, he still shouted in his terror "WE LOST A _WING!"_ Both he and Pidge screamed as they descended rapidly to the white covered grounds of Kerberos, but Lance was far too used to the feeling of his stomach dropping like this to let it effect him anymore. "Oh man," he sighed just before they crashed and everything in the ship went dark.

 _"Simulation failed,"_ the computer declared in a tone so indifferent, Lance couldn't help feeling personally mocked.

He huffed out a breath and sank back into his seat, Hunk mimicked him almost perfectly. "Nice work, _tailor."_ Pidge was merciless as ever. Lance was amazed he still had it in him to offer any taunts as it was, even from where he was sprawled on the ground next to his seat. He reared around to say something back, no matter how dumb it sounded it still would be better than taking it in silence, but his train of quick thinking was interrupted when the latch suddenly opened.

Vibrant light poured into the hold and practically blinded the trio of cadets, Iverson stuck his head inside and pinned them with a glare they had become far too accustomed towards to be intimidated by any longer. "Roll out donkeys!" he ordered. Lance, Hunk, and Pidge each took their time in getting to their feet.

* * *

"Well let's see if we can't use this _complete failure_ as a lesson for the rest of you students."

Lance and his crew stood in front of the simulator with their arms submissively locked behind their backs. As per usual, they were to stand there and remain completely emotionless as their peers each condescended their every little mistake. It might not have been so terrible, if not for one very _prominent_ item of detail. This particular bunch were not well liked among the Garrison. Perhaps it was because it seemed like Lance didn't take things seriously enough, with his brash cockiness and ill-minded antics that often led to total disaster. Or perhaps it was Pidge's complete disinterest in everything, how quick-to-anger he was, how he was so much smarter than just about everyone and _knew_ it. There wasn't any particular reason for anyone to dislike Hunk, except for maybe the fact that he was always speaking for them when they were berated for their wrongdoings. In any case, their behaviors were precisely what had them labelled around the facility as _Flunkies._

"Can anyone point out the mistakes," Iverson begun, Lance saw Pidge shrink into the protective shrug of his shoulders, "these three _so called_ cadets made?"

God, this was going to be taxing, Lance thought and resisted his need to look away. He understood Pidge's resentment towards this exercise, they both shared the same type of pride. They both consistently thought they knew best. And to be proven so unabashedly incorrect, to have those shortcomings pointed out so _directly,_ made his skin itch shamefully. A hand went up in the glaring crowd of cadets; a lean boy with shaggy dark hair seemed to be battling a smile that twitched threateningly at his lips.

"The engineer puked in the main gearbox," he said and among his fellow students followed a ripple of badly disguised snickering. A flush of coloring blossomed across Hunk's face and he lowered his head in grief. Lance hated when anyone went after his teammates, but Hunk was such an easy target for everyone. He didn't like to fight for himself, like he just wasn't worth that sort of effort. The unspoken rule for them to remain silent throughout the ordeal was nearly unbearable, he glared hatefully at his peer.

"Yes," Iverson agreed. "As we all know, vomit is _not_ an approved lubricant for engine systems. What else."

And after the first one, the cadets started throwing answers left and right.

"The comm spec removed his safety harness," she didn't exactly have an accent, but her specified pronunciation in words made it almost sound like she did.

"The engineer wasn't focused."

"The comm spec wasn't very clear with his words."

Pidge set his lips in a hard, flat line. Lance was very interested in the sentence he had just fought to swallow. It wasn't unlike them to nitpick like that. When given permission to piss off the Flunkies, they soaked it up as much as they could.

"The pilot crashed!" A girl exclaimed excitedly, waving about her hand and eliciting more laughter from the people behind her. Lance rolled his eyes before he could catch himself, and held in a sigh of relief when Iverson didn't appear to notice. The last thing he needed was to be made into yet another example for everyone to point and laugh at, he was getting quite enough of that as it was.

"Correct," Iverson proclaimed. Lance supposed it was at least _something_ that the general didn't laugh along with his classmates. "And worst of all, the whole team is out there _arguing_ with each other!" He turned and faced them instead, Lance remembered the first shudders that had come with the wrath of his glare. Like having his shirt pinned to the wall with a knife. Now? He didn't think Iverson knew of any other way to look at him. At any of the Flunkies for that matter. "If you're gonna be this bad individually, you better be able to at _least_ work well together as a _team!_ It's these kinds of mental mistakes that cost the lives of the men on the Kerberos mission."

It was a stale kind of warning. Years ago, legendary Takashi Shirogane and two other men had gone on a mission that ended with their abrupt and mysterious disappearance. Every now and then, the teachers used this story to instill a type of fear in the cadets so that they'd better understand the circumstances they needed to be willing to face. Like telling your children their tongues will fall out if they lie.

 _"That's not true sir!"_

Pidge's sudden outburst was enough to astonish not just his teammates, but the cadets that watched on with judging eyes. Iverson settled a fierce gaze upon strictly him, like firearms locking on to a target, and Lance lost himself. Every now and again came momentary lapses of selflessness. Pidge was digging his own grave here, he was _consistently_ reckless when it was his emotions that came into question. _Let him do this to himself!_ It wasn't like he'd ever be _grateful_ towards anyone stepping in to save him. Even though this train of thought was true, Lance really couldn't stand by and let Iverson rip him a new one in front of everyone here. He had a hard enough time getting along with everyone as it was. So, Lance took a step just far enough to slightly obscure Iverson's view of Pidge. "Sorry sir!" Although his voice remained cool, his internal instinct to run and hide insisted he listen to reason. "Pidge is a little strange today, I think he might've hit his head when he-"

Lance shut his mouth when Iverson leaned in and focused razor sharp eyes on him instead of his teammate. _"You're_ behaviors in particular are beginning to mimic those of a certain _other_ pilot that used to go here."

Lance would be lying if he said he didn't think of Keith every now and again. He wouldn't be surprised if he was the _only_ one who cared to remember the hot tempered pilot that seemed to have completely vanished from existence one day. He was hardly ever brought up anymore, but to be compared to him now left a heavy weight settled distractedly against Lance's chest. "He was one of the best in your class, and his problems with authority are the whole reason he flunked out in the first place. Do you honestly think it'll be that hard to let go of _you_ if you decide to act up the same?"

Lance lowered his eyes towards his feet and clenched his jaw hard enough to make it ache. Satisfied with his quiet submission, Iverson called upon the next team to take their own shot at the simulator. The Flunkies didn't speak out of turn a second time.

Iverson dismissed class and the teams headed out in flocks. Lance and his friends received sarcastic congratulations from certain bypassers, but Lance's mission wasn't self defense. At least, not for now. He wanted to reach Pidge. His petite figure shifted and slid through the crowd much too easily, and shouting his name proved futile as well. Inevitably, Lance lost sight of him among the throng and gave up his final hopes. It was true, they had been more or less thrown together and commanded to behave as a team. However, as the pilot, Lance was in charge of their growth more than the other two. He didn't show it, but he _longed_ for the day when they finally fell in sync. How could that happen if Pidge _insisted_ on constantly pushing him away?

"He feels bad," Hunk's voice made Lance flinch out of his reverie. Bright blue eyes shifted to look in surprise to the heavyset boy as he made his approach. As per usual, his ability to read a situation proved impeccable, it was hard to hide your inner emotions from him no matter the skill set you might've possessed for it. "When Iverson was yelling at you today, he looked surprised that you'd thrown yourself under the bus like that for him. By the way, _why_ did you do that?"

"Because," Lance answered quickly, tearing his eyes away from the slowly dispersing crowd to address his comrade. "He's our teammate. And I _am_ the leader after all." He ignored the begrudging roll of Hunk's eyes for the sake of his own pride and carried on, his voice weakening a bit more than he liked. "I couldn't just let him get yelled at like that. You know how he gets when anyone brings up Kerberos." Hunk nodded solemnly, they were perhaps the _only_ ones who cared to understand what it was about Pidge and any mention of that place that simply didn't mesh well. Any negative indication of it triggered something in him, something beyond anything Lance could ever hope to explore. Even still, that wouldn't stop him from trying anyway.

"You wanna sneak out tonight?" Lance asked, already knowing Hunk's answer was a very firm _'no.'_ "I think it'll be good for us!" he added hastily, just as Hunk was parting his lips to give a response. "Today was a disaster, I think its _good_ that we take a little while to act like normal kids for once. We won't go too far."

Hunk still appeared skeptical, but Lance was already heading away, writing out a plan in his head that would lead to a victorious escape. He supposed, if nothing else, there was at least _one_ thing he could succeed at today. "We'll collect Pidge from his room later on tonight. His roommate should be asleep by then, I'm pretty sure at least. He usually goes to bed early as it is-"

"Dude, we visit his room too much," Hunk said, clearly exasperated. But Lance knew that wasn't true. At least, not for Hunk it wasn't. Lance had glossed over _just how many_ times he'd visited Pidge's room, desperately trying (and typically failing) to pull him from his privacy and into the wide open with him. Just a _chance_ to form some kind of connection with him would be nice. If only one of them wasn't so damn insistent on keeping their gatherings strictly to themselves. Lance breathed out through his nose as he and Hunk made it to their dorm room. Looking back, this wasn't at _all_ how he imagined his Garrison days would go.

* * *

Lance and Hunk shredded their ugly Garrison uniforms in exchange for their casual attires. The former shrugged on his favorite army jacket, gave his friend a smile of encouragement, then lead the way out of their dorm. The hallways were dimly lit with lamps lining the walls, a suffocating silence welcomed them with outstretched shadows extended like arms. Hunk was whispering quietly, trying in vain to change Lance's mind and abort the mission lest they be caught. However, one would know it a waste of time to try and turn Lance's mind once a decision had already been made. They came to the edge of a corner and ducked behind the wall, a shifty grin grew over Lance's assets when Pidge's door came into view.

"Okay," Lance whispered, cutting off whatever sort of grievances Hunk had been delivering in that moment. "Worse case scenario, he outright refuses to come out with us, and I throw him over my shoulder and drag him out with us anyway."

 _"That's_ your worst case scenario?!" Hunk hissed through an irritable grit in his teeth. "Pretty sure the worst case scenario is we get _caught,_ and Iverson has us scrub the men's bathroom with a toothbrush for the next three days."

"Oh come on Hunk," Lance replied, a cheeky smile gracing his lips. "That happened _one time,_ you gotta get over it."

"Look," Hunk reasoned gently, touching his friend's shoulder with timid fingertips. "I get it, you wanna bond with Pidge, your heart's in the right place and I can respect-" he broke off, realizing his mistake a minute too late while Lance turned around to address him with a knowing quirk in his brow.

 _"Actually,"_ he said, raising an index finger in playful condescension. "It's not, and its a serious medical condition. I'm hurt that you would really _forget_ something like-"

"Oh trust me," Hunk said, rolling his eyes and tightly crossing his arms against his chest. "I didn't forget. I could _never_ forget that."

Lance had a condition known as _situs inversus,_ which meant all of his major visceral organs were reversed, or _mirrored,_ from their considerably normal position. Where one's heart was typically on the left side of the chest, Lance's was on the right. It could be written off as a disability, but Lance lived a relatively normal life and never suffered internal symptoms from this predicament. As a matter of fact, the rareness of his condition was the very thing that made Lance bond so fast with Hunk, who suffered from _total color blindness._

Their conversation was interrupted when Pidge's door to his dorm room slid open with an airy gasp. Lance and Hunk ducked behind the wall and peered in quiet curiosity as their temperamental teammate gripped the straps of his bloated backpack and skittered on the tips of his toes across the floor. He glanced around, suspiciously acute of his surroundings, then turned his back and hurried off. Lance's shoulders tensed and he straightened his position as Pidge disappeared in the distance.

"He's up to something! Hunk, let's-"

"Dude," Hunk exhaled his exhaustion and massaged the corner of his eyes. "Okay, so, he clearly doesn't wanna be followed. Wherever he's going, he. . ."

But Lance had stopped listening. By the looks of it, Pidge was headed in a familiar direction. His heart gave a little tug and he smiled warmly. "Come on," he interrupted Hunk's rambling and started away, disregarding all earlier concerns from the other boy. "I think he's going to the rooftop." Hunk could only sigh as he trailed behind.

* * *

 **A/N: I gave Lance that particular condition for something I have planned** ** _much_** **further along in the future. Making Hunk colorblind was mostly due to my own sort of fascination. I mean, imagine seeing everything in** ** _black and white._** **I don't know why I'm so enthralled with that concept, I almost find it endearing in a sense? Anywho, I was planning on having this series stretch to three books. However, I have a few too many ideas I wanna invest in aaaaand it might actually turn into four. Maybe. I don't know, we'll see I guess.**


	4. Until it Makes You Sick

Chapter 2 - _Until it Makes You Sick_

Honey suckle eyes stared out across a star scattered sky. Pidge knew she was much too old to be awed by the glow of them, and she wasn't the type to be enthralled with nature's beauty, not when it occurred every other day (what was so _romantic_ about a sunset anyway? They happened all the time, and it wasn't like they were terribly difficult to come across). It wasn't necessarily the streaks of ivory across a velvet black canvas, or the childlike wonder of magic that had her so attentive tonight. Rather, it was the possibility of finding something dear to her, something she lost long ago. No one knew this, and no one _could_ know this, but the Kerberos tragedy had effected her in ways the other students would never understand. While everyone mourned the loss of the _ever so magnificent_ Takashi Shirogane, Pidge was the only one who shed any tears for the other two men that had been on that mission.

Samuel Holt. And his eldest son, Matthew. They'd accompanied Shiro on his mission to a planet undiscovered, had been there to help him make a moment in _history._ And instead, they paid a most unfair price for it.

Pidge Gunderson, _Katie Holt,_ was so disgustingly bitter with humanity. Because everyone grieved Shiro, knew Shiro, wished they could travel through time and warn him of what would become of him. Barely anyone knew the names of her father and brother. They were presumed _dead._ And even in such a terrible turn of events, Shiro's own brilliance was impossibly vibrant, leaving her family to fumble in his shadow.

Granted, it wasn't Shiro's fault. She knew that. He'd been incredibly successful at such a young age, and he'd worked _hard_ to earn that sort of recognition. Pidge felt bad enough for the loss, for the wasted potential, what could've been had Shiro went on. Continued his work. Married that man he'd been engaged to for _years._ Sometimes she hated herself, for being so cold and unsympathetic when it was her family that came into question. Other times, she let herself be angry, isolated, _mean._ Because the whole world was crying over Shiro, he was not in danger of being forgotten if Pidge broke her heart for her family instead of him.

She'd wasted far too much time, screaming at her bedroom walls, her pillows, her _mother._ Tearing up her Garrison 'd shattered over and over again, until she decided she needed to know exactly what had become of them. She needed to know how they crashed, how much breath they'd had left, what time they'd died. She needed _all of it_ or she would go mad from her own unproven theories. But when she'd demanded answers from the Garrison, they'd merely offered her their useless condolences. It wasn't enough. Words without evidence or facts were just _words._ And, good God, it was all so insufferably _meaningless_ to her!

Pidge had always known that to get the best results for anything, she would have to provide the effort herself. This had been the first time she really needed to put this into practice. At first, she'd attempted to hack into Iverson's desktop from her own computer. Needless to say, she'd been caught almost immediately and had her devices taken from her as punishment. Pidge was determined, however, and wouldn't allow something so miniature to desist her search for the truth. So, she'd done the next best thing. Breaking into the Garrison, she'd effortlessly infiltrated Iverson's office and read though the files on his personal desktop. What she'd discovered _infuriated_ her.

Takashi Shirogane, Samuel and Matthew Holt, neither of them had been labelled as dead. _There was no crash._ In fact, the landing had been reported to go well enough. Shiro's team had lost contact unexpectedly, and their ship had disappeared entirely from the grid. They were marked as missing, possibly alive, not dead.

Iverson had found her shuffling about in his office and, outraged, had ordered security to drag her out. Pidge had screamed at him, had demanded he tell the world _everything_. That Shiro and her family weren't deceased, that the Garrison had given up looking for them and simply told the media that they had died.

Iverson had banned her from the Garrison; Katie Holt was never to attend the system and would be arrested if she were caught within nine yards of the property.

Katie Holt wasn't _finished_ yet.

She'd begun simple enough. Borrowing computers at the local library, Pidge had written on forums regarding Shiro's death; conspiracy theorists that speculated the government had taken him out due to personal threat or outdated homophobia. Although she'd become popular on these websites, it didn't take long for her to come to the conclusion that these people were nothing short of whack-jobs bored with the reality of their lives. This wasn't going to get her anywhere (especially considering the way they all shrunk away when she suggested actually _doing_ something about this). So, she'd went from that small, fruitless step and took a big, impatient leap instead. In only a short amount of time, she'd invented Pidge Gunderson.

She'd created a history for him with a background more impressive and promising than even her own. He got into the Garrison without heaving a breath, just as Katie had always dreamed. Alas. . .she wouldn't be going here to begin her future.

Pidge had brushed aside the idea of a friendship when she was first met with Lance and former had been kind enough, she supposed, if not for that ridiculously fake charm he carried about himself. Being put on a team was a bit of a roadblock, but so long as she kept up with group assignments and made sure their grades stayed above par, she wouldn't have to participate in actually getting to _know_ either one of them.

However, _Lance_ was so damn insistent. He tracked her down relentlessly, willingly dragged her around by her wrist and demanded she take the time to bond with her newfound friends. Pidge, admittedly, was always tempted to actually try. But. . .she simply couldn't afford the distraction. If she got too cozy, if she enjoyed herself too much, she might make excuses. Ones that led her to be counterproductive, that whispered through her mind how perfectly fine it was for her to progress at the Garrison. Take a few nights off from her persistent searching for her family.

 _No._ She could never. Because she wasn't Pidge Gunderson. That was simply a borrowed persona, and she could hide behind his identity for only so long. If she slipped up for even a moment, she might just miss her chance at locating her family again. And. . .besides. . .it wasn't like Lance and Hunk were missing much.

Pidge hadn't found anything regarding her family. But that didn't mean she'd come out of this empty handed. On the contrary, she'd found signs of life beyond this atmosphere. And it was, to say the least, unbelievably inhuman.

The language that filtered through her speakers came in a dialect she could not find recognition within. Pidge was never one to jump immediately to conclusions, and she would be _damned_ before she flailed her arms and screeched _aliens!_ without coming across any form of real evidence. However, hours of hyper-fixated research revealed the communications she'd overheard were not spoken in a language that existed. At least, not on Earth. Admittedly, Pidge was steered away from her main goal. But this was. . .she couldn't possibly ignore it.

Even more so, it was almost like the chatter was attempting to reach out to her. Each night she listened, the stars _screamed,_ and only one word came again and again. It seemed to be the same in every version of the alien language, and something about it made her throat restrict _every time_.

As she lowered her head towards her tech and fiddled with a few buttons, she stiffened up when she felt her earphones lift just slightly; someone else's breath touched the back of her neck.

"Come here to-"

Pidge jerked forward with an embarrassing sound of protest and whirled. Lance knelt there, his hands outstretched towards where she'd been sitting just moments before, smiling crookedly in amusement. "Rock out?" he finished, letting his arms fall limp at his sides. Pidge tried to pin him with one of her infamous glowers, but she could feel the tip of her ears burn red. The absolute _worst_ had finally come to pass, Lance had found her right where she wasn't supposed to be. There would be questions, suspicion, and she would have to account for it all. There was no way he would let this just _slide._

"Lance," she greeted, trying dearly to keep the waver out of her voice. "And, uh, Hunk," she peered around him to grace her other teammate with a dip of her head. He smiled sheepishly and gave a small wave, attempting in vain to disappear into the apologetic hunch of his shoulders. "I wasn't uh, I was just. . .looking. At. The stars." God, she was a pathetic liar. Having a typically blunt nature, it wasn't like she'd find much use for such a talent. As she suspected, Lance wasn't buying it.

"Pretty fancy device for star gazing," he said, leaning forward and pushing past her to peer at it. "And what's with the headphones?"

Pidge exhaled and pushed her headphones down around her neck. "Well," she said, pressing her hand into Lance's shoulder and coaxing him backwards. She absolutely _despised_ having her things touched. "This is something I put together myself, I just used some spare parts in the tech lab. Nothing anyone would miss much." Well, Pidge supposed that was only mostly true. Perhaps she had taken more than just forgotten parts, but the Garrison was very capable of replacing the things they might need. And, to be perfectly honest, it wasn't like they didn't owe it to her. After all, it was _their_ job she was doing.

Hunk stared in awe at the makeshift radios and computers and scooted around to her other side, admiration alight in his gaze. "Dude," he said, stretching fiddle-thirsty fingers towards it. "This is literally the coolest-"

"Yea," Pidge cut him off, grabbing his wrist before he could make contact. "It's great, but don't touch it." As Hunk sadly retracted his arm, Pidge exhaled tiredly.

"Woah," Lance said, visibly impressed. Something about his approval inspired her pride to glow just a little brighter, and she couldn't diminish the way her lips quirked up in a shy smile. "You seriously built all this?"

"I seriously built all this," Pidge confirmed. "With this, I can - _Hunk."_ She shot an intolerable glare towards the other boy, who had tried one more time to touch her precious equipment. He flinched at her acknowledgment and drew back, smiling apologetically and turning his head to look the other way. Breathing out in annoyance, Pidge carried on. "With this, I can scan all the way to the edge of the solar system."

"That right?" Lance asked, raising a single brow of interest. "Kerberos too?"

Pidge felt her smile falter, her heart gave a little jolt and she immediately looked away. She was transported back to just earlier today. When she'd let her emotions get the better of her, and she'd shouted at Iverson. _Iverson._ Who she could safely say she utterly _hated_ with every ounce of her being. She'd been ready for him, as he turned his single good eye her way, looking upon her with a contempt similar to the one he'd burned her with the day he'd found her digging through his files. Although she'd bared her teeth, an internal part of Pidge feared she was done for, that he had finally looked hard enough underneath this charade and recognized the last remaining Holt child he'd banned from the facility altogether.

And then she couldn't see him anymore. The single wall determined to thwart her every step of discovering her long since deserved truth. Instead, that blaze of fury she'd nearly been consumed by was promptly extinguished when Lance stepped in between them. He'd _protected_ her, even when he didn't have to. Even though she'd treated him with nothing but malice and sarcasm; had stuck her nose up at him like she were too good to be his friend. Were this anyone, _anyone_ else, they wouldn't have persisted like he did. They would have dismissed her and her terrible attitude, only put up with her when it was absolutely necessary. Pidge resented him for being so stubbornly kind in his endeavors, for making her feel for and think of something _other_ than her sole purpose for being here.

"Oh come on Pigeon," Lance brought himself closer and settled at her side. Pidge, however, refused to tear her laser focus from a single spot on the rooftop, feeling even further away from him and Hunk than ever before. _"Mi pajarito._ You flip out every time anyone so much as _mentions_ Kerberos. You expect me to believe that this is all about the stars?" Pidge didn't budge, hoping dispiritedly that he would give up and just _go away._ She realized it was a pointless sort of desperation, she felt the encouraging slide of his fingers against her shoulder and she instantly stiffened up. "If we're going to bond as a team, then we can't have any secrets-"

"You keep secrets from the instructors all the time!" Pidge lashed out, whipping around to stab him with a dagger-sharp glare. "Sneaking out at night? Cheating on your tests? That all counts as secret keeping."

"We can't have any secrets between _us,"_ Lance finished, raising his index finger in a manner very matter-of-factly. "And I've never cheated on _any_ of my tests, thank you very much. I _study,_ and sometimes I _still get a bad grade."_

"It's true," Hunk quietly agreed from off to the side, Pidge rolled her eyes exasperatedly.

"Come on!" Lance begged, grasping her shoulder with impatient surety, rocking her with all the tenacity of a child that had gone ignored for far too long. "Just this one time! Tell us what you're doing out here!"

Pidge looked towards her ware, at the many different readings and numbers that documented across a bright screen. She supposed she didn't have to be _completely_ honest here. She had, in fact, stumbled upon something marvelous in her hunt for her long lost family. While she didn't have to discuss where her obsession with Kerberos had first delved from, perhaps she could distract them with the other magnificent _something,_ powerful enough to pull her attention just enough to indulge. And. . .she did owe Lance for his previous act of generosity (and all the ones before that too).

"Okay okay," she agreed in begrudging submission. "It's. . ." God, how could she word this? "The. . .the world as you know it is about to change." Lance hummed, his attention piqued. He leaned closer, insisting she go on. "The mission to Kerberos wasn't a loss because of malfunctions or some mistake made by the crew. It was- _Hunk stop touching my stuff!"_ Pidge slammed her hands into the floor at either side of her as she glared in final warning at Hunk's reaching hand. He made a depressed noise of understanding and drew back, hugging his knees to his chest and looking miserably out towards the sky.

"Alright," Pidge sighed, catching her breath again. "I've been scanning the system for awhile now, and I managed to pick up alien radio chatter."

"Freaking _what?"_ Hunk snapped his head around to look at her in alarming disbelief. Then, with mocking merit, he burst into a fit of laughter. At her side, Lance's expression of anticipation dropped to one of dejected defeat, digits thoughtfully stroking at his chin.

 _"Estás realmente loco._ It's always the cute ones."

 _"Shut the hell up!"_ Pidge barked at them both, her cheeks flushed crimson from embarrassment. The ruthless crack in her voice was enough to make Hunk choke on the end of his gleeful mirth, Lance merely grinned. "I'm being serious! Obviously, I can't make any sense of what they're saying, but there's exactly one word that seems to be the same every single time." She shuffled into her bag and fished out one of her notepads, flipping through the pages until she found it written across the lines in bright red letters. "Voltron," she read to them, showing them the paper. "And tonight, its chanting crazier than I have _ever_ heard it."

"Pigeon," Lance said in a tone infuriatingly light, as though his last intention was to set her off. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but you need _sleep._ Like, a full eight hours worth." He stood, then extended one of his hands towards her. "Okay come on, let's just go back to our dorms. We can try sneaking out again tomorrow night or something."

"I second that!" Hunk quickly complied, rising with his partner and shooting a nervous glance out into the night. "I think we should all _definitely_ head back to our dorm rooms right about now. That's the best idea you've ever had."

Pidge growled in frustration and leapt to her feet, wholly disregarding Lance's gesture in the process and turning the emblazoned intensity of her gaze to scorch them where they stood. Just as it had always been, just as it would always be, it was Pidge against _them._ Against _everyone._ "I freaking knew I couldn't trust you guys with this!" she shouted, she found bitter enjoyment in the way Hunk cringed away from the volume of her voice. "I'm not crazy, and I'm _not making this up!_ I'm telling you there's something out there! And it's-"

 _"Attention students! This is not a drill!"_

A professional voice filtered suddenly through the intercom, a siren blared just behind it at a repetitive, heart slamming rate. _"We are on lockdown! Security situation Zulu Niner. All students are to remain in their barracks until further notice!"_

"Oh god, oh god, oh _god,"_ Hunk inhaled, his fingertips stuck between his teeth. "A serious security situation is going down and we are _outside_ and-" his eyes flicked towards the sky to see a vibrant ball of inferno come sailing towards the earth. "I-is that a _meteor?!"_ he was nearly too shrill, it might've been comical if not for the severity of their situation.

Pidge directed her attention towards the stars, unable to tear her gaze away as she knelt to her knees and reached into her bag, searching frantically for her binoculars. Her fingers inevitably closed around them, she pressed them against her eyes. Once her vision came into focus, it was apparent Hunk's infer was wrong. "It's a ship," she confirmed, then the binoculars were suddenly torn from her grasp. _"Hey!"_ she shouted, looking furiously to the culprit. Lance remained unaffected as he observed the unidentified vessel.

"I-I can't believe this," he admitted, breathless. As the ship drew closer, he pulled the binoculars away and the trio watched its disastrous descent. "That's _definitely_ not one of ours."

"No," Pidge agreed, a smile curling at her lips. "It's one of _theirs."_

"Theirs?" Hunk repeated, turning to shoot her an expression of incredulity. "As in, as in the _aliens?_ Aliens are real?!"

There was an explosion as the ship crashed. Pidge, Lance, and Hunk scrambled towards the edge of the rooftop to watch the big wheeled Garrison cruisers as they dashed straight after it, armor plated and eerily silent in their travels. "We _gotta_ see that ship!" Pidge insisted and pointed a wild grin at Lance.

He returned it and rose. "Affirmative," he said, offering her his hand for the second time that night. This time, Pidge took it without hesitation. He pulled her up and they wasted no time. After Pidge had shoved all of her things into her pack, they took off; Hunk staring after them in a dazed sort of fright. "Hunk!" Lance said without sparing him a cursory glance. "Come on!"

Hunk made depressive noises of protest, but the duo were one mind. Although he upheld the most sense of _logic,_ he surely gave pursuit.

* * *

Lance was sprawled on his chest against a short desert cliff, Pidge sat upright at his side, typing away on his makeshift computer, and Hunk was trying desperately to shrink abroad into the background. It had taken a bit of bickering for Pidge to finally give up the binoculars, but Lance had leadership authority and, upon bringing that up, Pidge had grumbled and handed them over. It surprised him, this entire _night_ Pidge had done nothing but surprise him. He'd never seen him with such a brightness in his eyes, it fed into Lance's own inner frenzy. For the first time, they were really truly _bonding_ as a team. All together. Perhaps, after this moment, it would just _stay_ this way.

Lance observed the set up centered in the clearing. The UFO was surrounded by officers, it lied broken and awkward against the sand; smoke rose from what must've been its engine source (if an alien space ship contained such a thing) and curled up towards the quiet night. Beside it was a tall bio lab hastily blown up to contain whatever had been piloting before.

"What do you see?" Pidge urged him. From the entrance of the lab came a pretty blonde with a clipboard pressed to her chest, her hair pulled away from her face in a professional bun. She greeted one of the officers with a forlorn expression and exchanged words Lance couldn't register even with the binoculars. Still, a grin spread along his face. "I see a _really_ hot blonde wearing a tight short skirt and-"

 _"Okay!"_ Pidge cut him off and tore the binoculars out of his grasp. "And you've lost observation privileges for the rest of the night. Hunk, your turn." He tossed the binoculars over to the other boy and he caught them with shaky hands. Lance complained about the ordeal, but Pidge was staring intensely at his screen, as though he couldn't be bothered. Hunk hesitantly came in beside Lance and pressed the binoculars to his eyes, exhaling heavily as soon as he did.

Pidge glanced over in acknowledgement. "What is it?" he asked.

Hunk looked back at him over his shoulder. "Well, you see," he said. "I can tell you for _sure_ there's no way we're gonna get a closer look. I mean, they've got a million people keeping guard over there. It's useless, guess we gotta go back to the Garrison. So _sad,"_ he practically shot to his feet and Lance rolled his eyes from underneath him.

"You realize the school's probably still on lockdown right?" he asked, perking a brow. Hunk looked as though he was about to confirm this, but Lance quickly went on. "And we've witnessed something we were _definitely_ not supposed to see. Also we're out after hours. And we've already been busted for that before so under _these_ conditions I'm assuming they're not just gonna-"

"Okay I literally know _all_ of these things," Hunk insisted and Lance grinned. "We'll just have to camp out on the roof until the school unlocks again and we can sneak into our rooms. And then we'll never ever _ever_ speak on any of this again."

"We're not done," Pidge spoke up suddenly. "There's a camera inside the lab and I managed to grab it's feed. We can see what's going on inside."

Lance scrabbled to sit upright and join his side, peering excitedly towards the tiny screen. "Wow Pigeon, you're freaking _awesome!"_ Pidge cringed away from him, almost embarrassed, and mumbled a quiet _thank you._

"They're not, I mean," Hunk stammered, shuffling towards them. "They can't somehow trace this back to you can they?"

"I'm not some amateur egomaniac," Pidge said, then smiled at him with a row full of teeth. "I'm a _professional_ egomaniac." Lance snickered and Pidge looked pleased.

Hunk gave in. He lowered himself behind them and looked over their shoulders at the video feed. The screen fizzled with static, then cleared and revealed a man strapped down against a table. _"Hey!"_ he shouted. _"What're you doing?!"_ Lance felt his chest seize and, beside him, Pidge audibly gasped in disbelief, his fingers gripped the computer tight enough to make it tremble.

"That's. . ." he whispered, losing his breath.

"Takashi Shirogane," Lance finished for him. _Legendary_ Takashi Shirogane. Hero to so many, responsible for discoveries once documented as improbable. All at such a _young age_ too. But more than that, he had been confirmed _dead_ long ago. How was it that he was here, _how was it that he was here?!_

 _"Calm down Shiro,"_ a man concealed in a biodegradable suit bent over the table and touched Shiro's shoulder in comfort. _"We just have to keep you quarantined until we can run some tests on-"_

 _"No! You have to listen to me!"_ Shiro asserted, aggressively thrashing against his restraints. _"They destroyed worlds! Aliens are coming!"_

"He's talking about aliens!" Hunk said, looking sideways towards Pidge. But he wasn't listening. Lance had never seen him look so frenetic, there was a desperate rise and fall of his chest, his fingers dug into the computer like he wanted to tear the screen open and clamor inside.

"Where's _the rest of the team?!"_ he demanded, Lance leaned away from him in astonishment.

 _"Shiro,"_ one of the doctors were speaking yet again, a clipboard in his hands. _"Do you know how long you were gone for?"_

 _"God, I don't know,"_ Shiro groaned, clearly agitated. _"Months? Years?! It doesn't_ matter _because there's really no time for this! Aliens are coming here, they're on their way as we speak and they're looking for a weapon. They'll destroy us if we don't find it first. We have to find Voltron!"_

Lance jerked back and Pidge's eyes rounded with alarm. "Voltron!" she repeated, meeting his gaze.

"It's a weapon?" Hunk inquired, but Pidge shushed him.

 _"Hey, take a look at this,"_ the doctors flocked to Shiro's left side and examined his limb, fascinated. _"It appears his arm has been replaced with a cyborg prosthetic. That's where the sickness resided wasn't it?"_

 _"He can't be cured by simply removing it,"_ another doctor reasoned. _"It'd spread throughout his body right? We need to dig up Shiro's old medical files, but for now? Put him under until we can figure out-"_

 _"No!"_ Shiro cried, curling his fingers into fists and straining against the binds with everything he had. _"Don't put me under! There's no time! We have to find Voltron!"_ The doctors ignored him, forcing his head to lie back while another doctor trailed towards him with a sedative set and ready in his hand.

"I don't understand," Pidge said, his voice smaller than Lance had ever heard it. "Shiro's alive, but-but where's the rest of the crew?"

"We'll probably never find out," Lance huffed, slamming a fist into the ground in utter frustration. "They won't freaking let him talk!"

 _"We'll_ let him talk," Pidge declared, lifting his head and glaring out towards the lab across the way. "We have to get him out of there."

There was _insanity_ in such a suggestion, but it was running through him too. Lance looked at Pidge and saw determination there, a fire he couldn't snuff out with fear or logic or even what it might've _meant_ for them if they were to be caught doing something as ludicrous as _kidnapping a legendary hero brought back from the dead from the literal government._ It was an overwhelming sense of surety, and Lance wanted some of it for himself.

Grinning, he nodded agreeably. "Alright, let's do it."

 _"UM!"_ Hunk startled them with his outburst. He stood and raised both his hands as though offering a version of peace. "I really do hate to be the voice of reason here, _always,"_ he said. "But what the actual _hell_ are you guys talking about? _Get him out of there?_ With what army are we gonna march up there and do something as idiotic as that? Do you wanna be put in prison for the rest of your lives? Also, we were _just_ watching on the tiny TV because we'd already established, or I _thought_ we did, that there's no way for us to get past the guards."

"Hunk," Lance said, sitting straight. "You're living in the _past_ man. That was, like, twenty minutes ago or something. Besides, we weren't properly motivated before." He looked curiously to Pidge again, who was already beginning to shove his computer back into his bag. "We _do_ need a plan though. Could we. . .maybe tunnel in?"

"Maybe we could get some of those suits," Pidge offered, smiling again, giving Lance some strange sense of accomplishment. "We could walk right past them like that."

"Okay," Hunk laughed, more than a little nervously, his fingers pushing impatiently into his fringe. "You guys are still talking like you're serious about this. How about, a totally different idea!" he lifted his index finger into the air like he'd ascertained the golden truth. "We dress up like chefs, _not_ illegal soldiers. We can sneak into the kitchen and I'll whip us up a little late night snack. Huh? Sounds pretty genius to me."

"No," Lance rejected, staring hard towards the ground as he sorted through their options. "Even if we sneak in, there's no way we can drag Shiro out without raising some questions. You know what we really need," he prompted Pidge with a sideways look and his eyes brightened enthusiastically.

"A distraction?" Pidge offered. Just as he said it, a _massive_ explosion went off just behind the clearing. The trio jumped to attention and stared as the fire and smoke cleared, Hunk _caterwauled_ and ducked for cover, moaning his despair.

"Its the aliens!" he shouted. "Its the aliens Shiro was talking about! They're here _right now_ and we're all gonna die!"

"Wait," Pidge said, leaning towards the edge of the cliff. "It's not aliens, it's exactly what we needed. Look!"

Lance followed the direction of his finger and watched as a hoverbike floated in from the side. Whoever it was, they were _definitely_ about to infiltrate the lab, clearly having set off the explosions so the Garrison would go running after source. He grappled for the binoculars left astray on the ground and peered through them, towards the unexpected visitor. For a moment, Lance couldn't believe what he was staring at. Another ghost from the past, one that disappeared completely at one point, only to turn up once more on this singular night. Old feelings came rushing to greet him at full blast, Lance felt his blood boil in outrage as he watched Keith make quick work of parking his bike and hopping off. Although his assets were mostly obscured by a face mask, Lance recognized that damn mullet anywhere.

"You've _got to be kidding me,"_ he huffed, looking back at Hunk in amazement. "Its Keith!"

"Who?" Pidge asked, Hunk gasped and ran to join his side.

"Dude, for real?!" he asked, leaning towards the edge of the cliff. "Look at that, he's gonna rescue Shiro! Still as weird and mysterious as he's ever been eh?" Although he grinned, Lance wasn't laughing.

"He always has to one up me, _every time._ Even after how _long_ he's been gone he still, he _still!_ No, not this time," Lance tossed the binoculars over his shoulder. Mostly, he did it for the dramatic flourish, but Pidge's high pitched sounds of protest for such carelessness pretty much destroyed that. It didn't matter, Lance needed to defeat Keith before he missed his shot again. "Come on!" he called to his team, climbing off the edge. "We need to go _now!"_

"Why?" Pidge called after him. "Who is Keith?!"

"Long story," Hunk said, scurrying after his friend. "Used to be rivals. Keith got expelled or something. Apparently still rivals." Hunk was right on Lance's tail, Pidge was forced to blink out of his confusion and give chase. There would be time for explanation later. But for now? Lance had only one thing he was after.

* * *

 **A/N: Pidge and Keith's relationship is gonna be my** ** _favorite_** **out of the bunch once I get through with this. I'm so mad, they were the bitterest out of everyone they should've been the bestest friends and Voltron had the audacity to rob us of that greatness! Also, writing this I'm, like, heavily reminded of just how much I stan Pidge. What a badass. Expect biased representation for her.**

 **There's something I wanna make perfectly clear here as well. I mean, I noted it in the information chapter but I feel like I** ** _really_** **need to make sure you know. One of the major characters** ** _is going to die._** **Some of you might be very extremely upset with the choice I make and how the story ends, in particular if you stick with me because my goal is** ** _absolutely_** **to get you attached to them all so that losing one hurts more than Allura's sacrifice had. Basically: You cannot yell at me for killing one of the characters it's your own fault if you're sad I write the words I'll do whatever I want.**


	5. Love Can Make You Reckless

Chapter 3 - _Love Can Make You Reckless_

It was the nights Keith always waited for, the time for him to finally curl up into his bed and shut his eyes against the rest of the world could never come soon enough. Most would call it a waste of his precious youth, to sleep away his days when he could sooner be pursuing a fulfilling future. Keith would sooner roll his eyes at the aspect of such sentiment. It was the dreams that enforced his will to live, vivid and strange and narrated through the gentle hum of something _purring._ Not quite a cat, something bigger. Something. . . _like a cat_. They didn't come every night; most dreams he had were infuriatingly ordinary, and they disappeared without a trace come the next morning. He'd gone years living for these far and few in between moments and, to imagine he might give up and move on to something greater came much more often than he was ready to admit aloud.

He'd crumbled before dead end after dead end and went home wondering if, perhaps, he'd merely lost his sense of sanity. If perhaps he should give up and continue onward. _To what?_ Came the age old question: what was left on earth for Keith to explore and fail at anymore? What was left _of_ him? When that black sadness crept up on him in the nights, curling it's claws into his spine until his own skin felt too tight around his bones, _then_ the dreams would come. An echo, a push to keep going. Just a little further, he was almost there. It was brief, but it was always enough to engage his determination once more.

This dream had been very different, it left instruction and a desirable prize for him to discover in the end. Shiro's face had flashed underneath his eyelids, Keith's heart had leapt so far up his throat he sat forward with an abrupt jolt and embraced himself, shivering in disbelief. His original, sole reason for surviving again and again was a man who'd taken him in at his weakest point, saw a light in Keith that everyone presumed had been blotted out by darkness, stood proudly beside him even when Keith gave him plenty reason to turn his back. That man had died. Shiro was _dead._ Keith knew that, he had to.

He repeated it to himself again and again as he stared into the mirror, _bronze on bronze_ as he wrapped a scarlet bandanna around his mouth, concealing his identity. His hands were shaking, he was forced to acknowledge them as he slid on his black, fingerless gloves. He would go back to the Garrison, invade their property one last time, see if the dreams were true. Certainly, the wildcat had never steered him wrong before, this would be a true test of faith. For once, he was actually _risking_ something. Just because a recurring character in his dreams had told him to. God, he was going to _die,_ wasn't he?

When Keith reached the desert clearing; accompanied with only his surety and, of course, the many dangerous explosives necessary for this mission; he nearly swallowed his tongue when he saw the haphazardly blown up lab. Keith had needed a moment to catch his breath before he set up the distraction, lining up his bombs in the distance and setting them off when he was safely tucked into position.

As expected, _many_ of the Garrison soldiers went to investigate the possibility of another mind-blowing discovery, but not all of them. Keith moved fast, rushed towards the entrance and found waiting there, two more soldiers left standing on guard. The one further down the makeshift hallway spotted him instantly and quickly cocked his gun.

"Hey!" He shouted. His partner, who'd originally had his back turned on Keith, turned to regard the unregistered guest and fumbled to grab his rifle. Keith observed the unprofessionalism and made the connection that he must be relatively new to the force, this might even be his very first complication. Keith took immediate advantage of his clumsy state of shock and darted forward, slamming his shoulder into the bridge of his nose and catching his firearm when the soldier dropped it.

Keith struck him in his head with the butt of the gun and he knocked out instantly. Keith captured his limp figure and pressed his back into his chest, daring the other soldier to pull the trigger.

They were caught in a standstill, but seconds were swiftly dwindling away for Keith. He didn't have time for a staring contest. It appeared the soldier was just as impatient as his opponent, his hand reached for a radio attached to his belt and Keith reacted accordingly. He didn't need what little bit of time he had to be chopped in half because someone requested assistance. Keith threw the body towards the other guard and his immediate, _pathetically selfless_ reaction was to reach out and catch him. Keith moved before they could even make contact, slamming his rifle into the man's head and making quick work of him as he did his partner.

Keith stepped over their fallen forms, oddly detached from his surroundings. All he could think about, _all he could focus on_ , was the idea that he might just see Shiro again. He came to the final door before he could snap out of his own thoughts, it slid open with a welcoming _whoosh_ and awaiting his arrival were several men dressed from head to toe in bio-hazard suits. They examined him in surprise, then performed dutifully and attacked him.

They weren't trained in proper combat, so it wasn't much of a challenge for Keith to defeat them. The immobile figure shrouded beneath a blanket atop a hospital bed inspired him to move faster. His thoughts were running too fast for him to properly document, was it Shiro? Was he really truly _alive?_

Keith crossed the room in two big strides, tearing the bandanna from his face and reaching out with fidgety digits to rip the clean white cover away. The sight underneath speared lightning through his chest, and Keith felt like his lungs had collapsed within himself. _Shiro._

He was unconscious, fitted in drab colors, scar tissue tore right over his nose. It was Shiro and then, at the same time, it wasn't. Keith didn't care for the details, not yet. All that mattered in that moment was getting him out of this hellhole and into the safety of Keith's home. He savagely ripped apart Shiro's binds, then took contradictory care as he coaxed Shiro from the stiff mattress and propped him up against his shoulder.

"Hey!"

Keith's head snapped up, his muscles coiled under his skin as he prepared for another fight. There was absolutely no way he would let anyone take Shiro from him again. He didn't know how he was alive, where he had gone without contact for all these years, but he was _back._ Keith wouldn't hand him over easily.

His possessive outrage dimmed to confusion when he saw glaring back at him, a pair of sharp blue eyes, eyes _too_ _young_ to belong to a professionally trained soldier. Keith huffed his fringe out of his eyes to get a better look at the newcomer, familiar in ways he couldn't quite put his finger on, but the other boy was already storming towards him.

"No. _Freaking._ Way," he said through the hard clench of his teeth. "First of all, I really cannot _believe_ you had the audacity to show back up here after being expelled."

Keith's shoulder was beginning to ache, he shifted his weight on his feet and fixed Shiro's posture against him. _Expelled?_ So then, this was just an ordinary cadet. One that appeared to despise him just a tad bit too much for Keith to ignore.

"Second of all," the boy went on. "You're not saving Shiro. _I_ am saving Shiro and you feel free to go to hell." The boy moved to Shiro's other side and propped a broad arm across his shoulders. At first, Keith felt a hoggish sort of anger cut through him and he prepared to bark at the stranger. But he didn't completely take Shiro away from him, he just assisted. Keith opened his mouth to finally question him, when another voice intruded upon them.

"Keith! It's really you!"

Keith snapped his head up one more time to see two more people enter the room. One was smiling bright and waving with an air of discomfort in his direction; a tall, rotund boy with dark skin and cloudy gray eyes. "It's really cool to see you again," he said, drawing closer, astonishingly polite. Fiercely uncertain. _Again?_ Wait, it was _cool_ to see him?

Keith hadn't caught a good look at the other person that had entered, but he did see an impressively small shape moving swiftly around the space, as though it were investigating for something else. Keith's curiosity was failing him, it melted from within and was quickly replaced with that nagging sense of impatience. He didn't have time for whatever this was, the guards would come back shortly and they'd all be caught if he was still stuck here.

"I really don't have time for introductions," he said, giving Shiro's arm a gentle tug and hopefully inspiring the other boy to start moving with him. "We have to go _right now_ or we'll be-"

 _"Introductions?!"_ The boy on Shiro's other side reared his head around to pierce Keith with a glower sharper than his throwing knives. "We don't _need_ any introductions! We had an entire class together!"

Keith blinked slow. This boy, whoever he was, clearly had a mysterious distaste for him, and he supposed he and his team knew his name. But. . . Keith had been infamous at the Garrison. He wasn't nice to anyone, the ever wonderful Shiro showed him favor, and there was the rumor regarding what had happened to his parents. . .

"We need to go."

The smaller one, the one Keith had earlier lost track of, appeared suddenly again next to the bigger of the three. He shifted his glasses, but he wasn't looking anyone in the eye. "The guards will be back soon, we don't have time for this." He turned and trotted off, Keith felt a momentary lapse of relief when the boy at his other side started following after, though he grumbled the entire way.

They made it to his hoverbike without qualm, Keith took Shiro from the nameless boy and settled him carefully at the front, then climbed on behind him. Much to his surprise, the trio of unwarranted guests immediately started following after him. "Hey hey hey-" Keith started to object, but was cut off with an unflattering _'oof'_ when the bigger of the three clamored haplessly into the back and caused the entire bike to slam down. "This bike won't fit three people," he growled, checking to ensure Shiro was alright.

"Seems to be working just fine for me," boy number one positioned himself on the side and grinned in triumph. "Giddy up Mullet, before the guards catch up to us!"

Keith whirled to snap at him, but the blare of an alarm swallowed his voice. They all turned simultaneously to see headlights up ahead shine directly upon them just up the hill. There was no time for banter, they'd completely wasted their time with it, and now the consequences had caught up to them. Keith revved the bike and it immediately purred to life, then they took off.

The cruisers gave chase, soldiers aboard called for their halt lest they face the deadly destruction of their firearms. His new passengers all spoke at once, shouting and screaming and wondering if there was any way for Keith to make this thing pick up just a bit more pace. Although it surprised him, Keith absolutely _loved it all._ The utter chaos of their situation, the threat that they might be caught and arrested looming just behind them, outstretching its claws, ready to snatch them up. Perhaps things have been far too silent in his life. Or maybe it was just the idea that Keith was born into madness, and only knew happiness when insanity was suffocating him.

"Big man!" Keith turned his head and shouted at boy number two. "Lean to the left!"

Boy number two did as instructed and the bike swerved to the left, just after a desert cliff wall. Were it just him, he and Shiro would've been up in the air by now, away from the guards, from _everyone,_ and on their way back to the cozy little cottage Keith called home. There was no point in desiring, he was carrying several passengers now and it was in his best interest to save them all the same.

 _Or is it?_ Keith hadn't had any friends at the Garrison, just enemies. People who wouldn't look him in the eye because they were afraid of the stories being told. And, the ones who _did_ look at him? They despised him with everything they had. If these students were truly Garrison cadets, what on earth would make him want to save them from the peril just a breath behind them?

 _'It's really cool to see you again.'_ Keith didn't remember him, or what had happened in the past to warrant any sort of delight in reuniting with Keith again. But he was kind, and genuine, just as Shiro had been the very first time they met. The idea of leaving him behind and saving his own skin filled Keith with regret, and he tightened his grip around the handles of his bike with new resolve. "Big man!" he summoned again. "Lean to the left!"

Boy number two leaned and the bike followed straight after. Behind them, the soldiers had begun firing their weapons. It was tough, weaving between rocket launchers as they snaked by, hissing and sparking with excited flames. The blue eyed boy made a noise of terror and hugged himself closer to the bike's side. "They're going to _kill_ us!" he cried, Keith rolled his eyes. Of course they were.

It was likely they didn't know it was minors they were firing towards; all they cared about was the extraterrestrial situation being suddenly interrupted by a group of thieves robbing them of their key factor. But Keith couldn't bear the thought of letting Shiro down here. Not when he was so close. _You saved me,_ he thought, with a momentary glance towards the sleeping man pressed securely to him. _Now its my turn to save you._

 _"Cliff!"_ Boy number three raised his voice above the unfettered pandemonium, Keith looked ahead of them to see them swiftly approaching a pointed edge.

Nitroglycerin spiked through Keith's blood; he felt so suddenly manic, like wings had manifested from his spine and gravity was a fear of the past. Ducking down, he revved the engine, willed it to give one last kick of speed, and choked down the laughter that bubbled up within when it did. His passengers all clucked like poultry, their words all melded together into bubbled nonsense, but Keith didn't care for any of it. All he could think about was plunging through the fog, losing the soldiers all demanding their submission. Victory had never looked so good before.

They drove directly over the edge, descended through the thick gray mist, the unforgiving desert ground hurtling towards them at a panicking momentum. Keith thought his passengers were screaming, they might've been, the roaring of blood in his ears drowned them out if they were. He gripped the handles of his bike and started to pull up, the added weight made the task practically impossible. No, _absolutely impossible._ He'd overestimated his own ability during the anarchy, and now they were all going to die from a pitiful _crash landing._ Keith shut his eyes and summoned the wild cat to him, _anything_ that would help him keep Shiro alive during such an endeavor. Then he felt something warm press into his back.

Keith looked up to see boy number two had thrown himself forward and gripped the bike handles, wild eyed and frenzied from his terror. _"I'll help you!"_

Keith looked down to see he was pulling up, he quickly moved to do the same. The bike, though slowly, eventually turned upward and avoided the ground just barely, sailing forward with a purpose for home. Keith's heart was in his throat as he pressed the breaks and slowed the transport to a complete halt. Blue eyes was the first one to slide off the bike, rushing away until he was far enough to double over and empty his guts on to the dusty ground. Boy number three practically fell from his perch at the end, shaking all over and staring at seemingly nothing as he distanced himself. Keith looked over his shoulder to see boy number two, big man, had slouched forward, his chest rising and falling, the disbelief apparent in his gawking eyes.

"Thank you." Keith was breathless and shaky, but he still managed the words anyway.

"Yea," came the reply, though he was still motionless. "No problem."

* * *

Moonlight filtered through the the wisp of weathered drapes hanging in front of the age-stained windows. Blue eyes found the light switch while Keith was tucking Shiro into his bed, securing the blankets and brushing his ivory bangs from his eyes. The room was enveloped in dim, flickering fluorescence, and Keith immediately whirled on him. Blue eyes remained unperturbed by Keith's scowl as he peered at Shiro from against the doorframe, his finger still poised over the switch. "I. . .can't believe it's really him," he said with an air of awe. "I thought he was-"

"Get out," Keith commanded, storming forward and swatting him away from the entrance. Blue eyes looked enraged, but Keith shut off the light anyway, gently clicking the door shut on his way out.

The other two were gathered in his cramped living room, boy number three sat criss cross on the floor and boy number two lounged comfortably on his couch, lying on his stomach and facing his comrade. They were speaking quietly to one another.

"Alright," Keith interrupted them as he came to the center of the room, bracing both of his hands against his hips. "This is the plan. You're all gonna stay the night here. Then, in the morning, I'm gonna take you back to the Garrison, and you can resume your wonderful lives as honerable space cadets."

"No," boy number three straightened defiantly, looking surprisingly fierce in spite of his comical size. "I'm not leaving, not until I get to talk to Shirogane."

"Yea," blue eyes backed him up with a stubborn cross of his arms. "We helped you rescue him, I think its only fair we get to see him when he wakes up too."

 _"You_ didn't do _jack,"_ Keith sneered back at him. "Actually, _I'm_ the one that got your sorry asses out of trouble. If it weren't for me, you would be calling your mothers right about now and telling them about how you were _expelled from the Garrison."_

"And if it wasn't for Hunk," boy number three chimed in, nodding towards his friend still lying quietly on the couch. "We'd all be dead right about now."

Keith flicked his eyes towards the one in question, _Hunk_ as he'd been called. Upon his acknowledgement, he lifted a hand and waved shyly, smiling kindly, and something in Keith's chest clenched awkwardly. That was, unfortunately, quite true. Without Hunk's momentary train of thought, they all would've inevitably crashed and died in that instant. "Thank you," Keith said softly, knowing full well he'd already done so. Hunk blinked and sat up a bit.

"It was really weird. All I kept thinking was that. . .we were going to die," Hunk explained, looking endearingly sheepish. "Then I heard this, like, sound. Like a, ah, a roar or something, and then I was thinking clearly for a second."

Keith's entire body went stiff, he'd heard a _roar._ The wild cat, it had spoken to him? Was it speaking to all of them?

"Oh Pidge!" Blue eyes brightened suddenly and turned to regard boy number three in a sudden flurry of excitement. "Tell us more about Voltron! That's what Shirogane was talking about earlier, right? And that's what you've been listening to for the past several nights? It all connects!"

"Voltron?" Keith asked, looking towards the boy, Pidge, in expectancy. He didn't recognize the word, but something about it sent electricity lancing through his veins. "You. . .you said Shiro was talking about it earlier? When?"

Pidge, with his arms crossed and his honey-colored eyes intensified through the lenses of his glasses, leaned forward and observed him. "Your contacts," he said, and Keith jerked back in surprise. "They kinda glow in the dark. You remind me of this mythical creature I remember reading about in historical pop culture. Hunk, what was it called again?" He looked towards the boy on the couch, perplexed. Hunk merely shrugged, his eyes dragging with exhaustion. Keith glowered impatiently.

"I'm not wearing-"

"Spotty long neck camel thing," blue eyes offered and Keith turned to look at him, incredulous.

Pidge exhaled through his nose and pushed his fingers up under his glasses, rubbing his eyes. "Okay, _giraffe._ And we've been over this. They're not mythical, they existed on earth once."

"Oh please," blue eyes was happy to engage from where he leaned up against the wall's chipped white paint. "We've all seen the picture, there's no way that thing just _casually walked around earth_ and people found it perfectly normal. It's fake, and it resembles Keith perfectly."

Keith had never seen a picture of a giraffe, much less ever heard of one. But if that earlier description was anything to go off of, he guaranteed the comparison was far from flattering. Keith turned all the way around to regard him. "What the hell is your damage," he briefly flicked his eyes in the other direction and tried shuffling through his terrible memories of the Garrison, looking to procure a name. A face. Something vaguely familiar about this boy, perhaps even where this deep-seated misery came from anytime they interacted. When he came up short, however, he ended his sentence with abysmal lameness. "Dude?"

It was, apparently, the absolute _wrong_ thing to say. From the brightened expression he gave, Keith could have caused less devastation by spitting in his face. _"Dude?"_ he repeated. From behind, Pidge snorted.

"I thought you said you guys were rivals," he teased, blue eyes very clearly didn't appreciate it.

"We were! We-we _are!"_ He was being far too loud for Keith's taste. Shiro was at the forefront of his thoughts, and Keith didn't want him to be startled into wariness.

"Can you-"

"How can you not remember me?!" He went on, still far too loud, unreasonably insulted. "We've _always_ been rivals. Everyone at the Garrison would even tell you! They'd be like 'oh yea, Lance and Keith, neck n'neck!.'"

Lance.

 _Why are you always screwing up?_

Keith shoved the words down as quickly as they rose, he couldn't afford to get sucked into the past like that. Not while there were other people around to witness it. "None of this matters," he insisted, though his voice came out like gravel. He couldn't stand being around other Garrison cadets; their vibrant futures smiling down at them from the stars they longed to live among one day. "We're not having this conversation without Shiro. You all need to go to sleep _right this instant."_

"I'm going to the bathroom," Lance replied, turning up his nose as he slipped around the short wall and slammed the bathroom door behind him. Keith exhaled, already feeling drained, and turned back to the remaining pairs of eyes on him. For a moment, it crossed his mind that they hadn't been properly introduced yet. He diminished they idea, there was no reason for such formalities. Besides, it seemed they knew each other well enough, Keith just wanted to put an end to this evening and endure the burden of tomorrow.

"Uh, here," Hunk pushed himself up to his feet and moved away from the couch, gesturing towards it with another one of those curiously kind smiles. "I mean, its your house. You should totally get to crash on the couch."

Keith looked towards the piece of furniture, unexpectedly struck with a torrent of inexplicable embarrassment. Hunk wasn't _wrong._ This was his house, and these people were staying here against his wishes. If he couldn't sleep in his bed, he should get to sleep on his own couch. However, because Hunk had acknowledged this and announced it _so publicly,_ he no longer had the means of using it.

"I don't want it," he said, crossing his arms, face heated. "You should just take it."

Hunk's smile fell into a look of puzzlement. He flicked his gaze back towards the cushions, seeming to shrink back into his own shoulders. "Actually-"

"If neither of you are gonna take it, then _I_ sure as hell am," Pidge stood without the obnoxious reluctance the other two had demonstrated and crossed over to the couch. Sighing, he threw himself to it, rolling over so his back faced the living room and shut his eyes against the moonlight. And that was the end of that predicament.

Keith was both annoyed and, peculiar as it was, amused by the audacity. Even still, he refused to let it show on his face as he shuffled to the farthest corner of the room and leaned himself up against it. He shut his eyes before Hunk could say or do anything else to make this situation anymore uncomfortable. Within time, the darkness consumed him.

Keith saw no pictures that night, but a gentle purr of satisfaction remained in his company.

* * *

 **A/N: I'm having war flashbacks. Remember when Shiro found out Adam, the guy he was going to** ** _willingly share his life with_** **, had died and his response was basically "Damn. Tragic." Like what the hell do you** ** _mean?!_** **Anyway! I've already written Shiro and Adam's love story, I'm so excited to share it with all of you! It might be. . .quite awhile. . .before I reach the point of actually getting to tell it. But I think you'll like it! I'm just so excited for this to turn into an actual story and not just an** ** _in the beginning._**

 **Also! I know Keith's eyes are, like, indigo and dark. But they're bronze now and I did it for a seriously minor future plot point. Finally, an update! I've decided to write Heith in full! I know it was originally supposed to be one-sided, but I'd been flickering back and forth between it for awhile now. If you can't** ** _stand_** **the ship I'd suggest exiting now before you get attached to the story. But I sincerely hope you do not!**


	6. Ripped From the Ocean

Chapter 4 - _Ripped From the Ocean and Thrown to the Stars_

The drizzle of early dawn pulled Keith into wariness. Lazily, he pressed the heel of his palm into his eye and rubbed away the final dregs of sleep. It took a moment for his vision to clear of the tired blur, everything in him recoiled at the sight of other people still sleeping soundly in his living room. Hunk had occupied the space between the couch and a rickety bookshelf, leaned up against the weathered wood with his mouth hung unceremoniously open and his chest rising and falling in heavy breaths. Pidge still had his back facing everyone, but he had curled up into a tight, self-protective ball. His breathing was rapid, Keith thought to be concerned before he remembered he didn't know these visitors and didn't care to. Lance had taken up the middle of the floor, sprawled on his side with a massive pair of green headphones pressed into his ears. Keith rolled his eyes at the display, then the events from last night suddenly caught up to him.

Inhaling sharply, Keith scrambled, a graceless show, to his feet and rushed towards his bedroom door. His heart sank when he found it open, Shiro had abandoned it at some point while everyone was still sleeping. _Damn it,_ he'd been counting on whatever had been running through Shiro's veins to keep him knocked out all throughout the next morning. That way, Keith would be able to wake up before him and be certain he didn't slip by him. . .exactly as he had. His head snapped towards the front door and he found it creaked ever so slightly.

Shiro had always loved the sky when the sun was just barely in it. Whether it was rising to greet him or taking it's final bow, he was sure to be there, watching the show of color stretching through the clouds.

Keith's sense of hope was so strong, he didn't bother looking in front of himself as he rushed towards the entrance. Of course, Lance simply had to ruin everything with his unnecessary input even when he wasn't awake to do it properly. Keith tripped over his figure and fell forward, his chest collided with the ground and he grunted from the exertion. Lance sat up at once, clawing the headphones from off his ears and looking sharply towards the other boy. "What the _hell_ Mullet!" he practically shouted, the others began to stir at the proclamation.

Keith didn't have the patience for this. "Maybe don't sleep _in the middle of the floor!"_ he retorted shortly, getting back to his feet and pushing out the door before anyone else could stall him.

Just as he'd suspected, Shiro was there in the distance. His face was turned up towards the atmosphere, watching as the clouds began to lighten the more the sun ascended, brightening the desert. His metal arm was lifted, a fist curled into his chest. As stiff and straight as the soldier he'd always been. Keith exhaled the breath he didn't realize he'd been holding and made himself walk forward. He was feeling various flickers of overwhelming emotions, all of which threatened to spill over in a bender that could've been furious or joyful. One thing was for certain, either way involved his tears.

Keith had thought Shiro was dead. If he'd never gone on that mission, if he'd just stayed and listened to everyone that was scared for him, then none of this would have happened. Keith wouldn't have fled the Garrison, Adam wouldn't have resigned from his status as a teacher, Shiro would still have his arm. . . But at the same time, none of that really mattered to him. Because Shiro _wasn't_ dead, and Keith _wasn't_ alone anymore, torturing himself with delusions and anomalies that would only appear if he'd held his breath long enough. When restraint gave a gentle tug on his reigns, Keith finally trusted himself to pick up the pace, clearing the gap between them.

He reached out, pressed a hand against his shoulder, grounded himself to the reality that Shiro was actually here with him, admiring another sunrise. Shiro didn't look away from the sky, but the side of his mouth _did_ turn up into a smile much too uneasy to belong on his face. Keith invited more air into his lungs, knowing all the things he wanted to ask. But, he needed to take this slow.

"You should've woken me up," he said, Shiro huffed a laugh.

"I imagine you could've used the rest," he answered. "I'm sure breaking into a government restricted area and _stealing_ evidence from a scene could take a lot out of someone." He gave Keith _the look._ The _you-know-better-but-I'm-not-really-mad-this-time_ look, but the light that usually came with it didn't reach his eyes. Keith took him in, the way he'd been avoiding since the first time he'd pulled him out of that lab. The silvery scar sliced right across the bridge of his nose, his bangs turned hoary from a stress Keith couldn't have even begun to imagine.

"What the hell happened?" he finally asked, he couldn't play the part like everything was prime. Not when the typically optimistic man in front of him looked like decades had been taken from his life.

Shiro quit smiling altogether and turned away from him, his mouth set in a conflicted line as he gazed down towards the quizzical curl of his metal fingers. "I wish I could tell you," he answered, and Keith had never heard his voice sound so small. He peered a little closer, a muscle in Shiro's jaw twitched and it struck the other boy that, all in all, Shiro was actually _scared._ Scared of whatever he'd faced during his mission. Scared of what was out there, beyond their reach. Scared of what sort of price he might pay for living through whatever he'd witnessed. Keith ground his teeth together so hard, he thought they might chip from the pressure. He'd never seen Shiro afraid of anything, not even losing. This was _real._

"Does the word 'Voltron' mean anything to you?" he inquired, Shiro's eyes lit up like fireworks and he whirled, seizing Keith by his shoulders in his excitement.

"We have to find it!" he said, although Keith wasn't sure if he was actually speaking to him or himself in that instant. "It's-it's, ah, some sort of weapon that they're after. They'll use it to destroy earth, to destroy the _universe!_ We have to find it first or-"

"Shiro, who are _they?"_ Keith reached up to grip his wrists, his voice and speculation gradually returning his friend back from his nightmares. "Why are they coming to earth? What kind of weapon is. . ." Shiro slowly relinquished his grip and pulled away, his eyes lowered towards the ground as he entered somber thought. Keith knew him like he knew himself; this was something he planned to do _completely alone._ Because that was just what he did. He put everyone before himself, even if it meant dragging himself all the way through hell and back. Always reluctant to ask for help, almost like he couldn't ever imagine a reality where he actually deserved it. Well, if what Shiro described was true, and there was something bigger than them coming to take over the planet, Keith would _not_ play fiddle to the background and cheer Shiro on from the stands. Not this time.

"The people you saw in there," Keith started talking before Shiro could effectively float away from the present. "In the house. They're Garrison cadets. They know about this Voltron thing, more than I do. Maybe even more than you do. . . I think maybe you should talk to them."

Shiro looked bewildered by this, and of course he was. He wasn't expecting anyone on earth to have known anything about this. Keith briefed him on their names, then guided him back inside the house.

* * *

When Keith brought Shiro into the living room, everyone had aroused themselves from rest. Lance was settled on the floor, propped up against the couch and listening intently to whatever Pidge had been saying. He surveyed Keith with sharp unfriendliness upon his arrival, then stumbled clumsily to his feet when he realized Shiro was trailing him. "You're awake!" he announced, Hunk dug himself out of his tiny space to regard him with an expression purely of amazement. Pidge, however, barely spared him a glance. There was no trace of fondness in his gaze as he peeked towards him over the rim of his lenses, then returned sole attention to the journal laid out in his lap. Keith couldn't help but notice he was careful about everything he seemed to touch. Whether he was shifting his glasses or turning a tattered page in his book; he did it with the very tips of his fingers. Almost like he thought too much movement might bring on too much attention.

"Hey," Shiro was at Keith's side, his wrists professionally crossed behind his back, a tired smile gracing his features. "Keith said you guys had a hand in saving me back at the Garrison. Thank you."

Keith's face twisted and he looked over at the other man with an air of astonishment. "I did _not_ say-"

"Lance, right?" Shiro ignored Keith's objection and stepped over the gap between him and the boy in question. Keith watched with calculating eyes as he offered his flesh hand, keeping the metal one firmly pressed into his back. If Lance noticed, he didn't show it. He had a starry gaze full of evident disbelief as he extended his arm and accepted the gesture. Keith didn't hide the roll of his eyes, but he was admittedly used to this. Cadets would swoon and crumble if Shiro paid them even the slightest bit of perusal, Pidge's blatant apathy struck Keith as very odd.

"I'm Hunk!" He waved from his spot, but made no indication to reach towards him as Lance had. He looked starstruck, very obviously nervous from the timid way he scratched the back of his neck. "And, uh, this is Pidge. He's. . .not good with people." Pidge shot a glower at his friend that nearly bordered on rabid, but Keith didn't miss the way Shiro's brow crinkled when he examined him. Like he was looking at something he wasn't supposed to be seeing.

"Show him the stuff you were talking about in your journal," Hunk suggested. Pidge eyed Shiro again, still in that cautious, distrusting manner, before he shoved the worn notebook into Hunk's hands.

"You do it," he said, and shrunk himself back into the couch. "I'm tired of talking about this."

Hunk was baffled and Lance flicked an anxious gaze down towards him. Pidge was brazen enough to ignore their probing stares as he pulled his knees up against his chest. "Okay. . ." Hunk started, flipping gently through the delicate pages. "Well, Pidge was just talking about the repeated series of numbers the aliens were searching for and how he couldn't really figure out the code to them. So _I_ pointed out they seem a lot like a Fraunhofer line if anything."

"What is a frown. . .hopper. . ." Keith immediately regretted opening his mouth the minute he did. Hunk smiled back at him, entertained, and Keith was burned again by that odd sense of humiliation. Crossing his arms, he looked away angrily.

 _"Fraunhofer,"_ Hunk repeated lightly. "A number describing the emission spectrum of an element. The only thing is, this element doesn't exist on earth." He looked towards Shiro, hopeful in his own right. "I thought maybe it might be the Voltron. The thing Pidge has been tracking for a few nights now." Shiro looked again towards Pidge, but Pidge was determined not to acknowledge his existence.

"Anyway!" Hunk carried on. "Even though this isn't a natural element on earth, it seems like it can currently be _found_ here, so I thought I could build a machine that could track it down and we could find it. Sorta like a, uh, _Voltron Geiger_ counter or something."

"Hunk that's freaking awesome!" Lance chirped. He'd started leaning against the couch's armrest, nearly touching Pidge, but Pidge was inching casually away as though to avoid any point of contact.

"It's pretty fascinating, really." Hunk shrugged modestly, digging a hand into one of his pockets. "But here, I drew out the wavelength and it looks like this." He unfolded a piece of paper and revealed the jagged lines of his research, red points indicated energy signatures and labelled accordingly. Keith wasn't a genius when it came to the science of this sort of thing, but the shape it made was irrefutably familiar.

"Hey," he said, stepping closer. "Can I see that?"

"You _are_ seeing it," Lance sneered around the same time Pidge snapped his fingers in realization and said "Vampire!"

Hunk smiled apologetically and offered him the paper. Keith took it, turning and walking over to a loose sheet hanging up against the wall. He pulled it away and revealed beneath it all the research the wild cat had led him towards. Everyone paid attention now, puzzled look after puzzled look pinned to the nonsensical scrawlings and strange images tapered to a billboard.

"What have you been working on?" Shiro wondered, quiet but impressed as he observed all of Keith's work.

"It. . .it all started with a dream," Keith began. Lance and Pidge exchanged an exasperated glance and Keith felt his skin prickle with agitation. "I can't explain what really brought me here," he went on quickly. He'd already _known_ how ridiculous his predicament was. Saying it aloud only made it that much worse. "It's like this big cat was trying to, like, _I don't know,_ talk to me or something. I needed to go out into the desert and find something. I discovered a lot of miniature energy signatures, but I _also_ pinpointed a bigger source." He knocked a knuckle against the makeshift map he'd created in a haste to document and keep moving. "I found this system of caves eventually, they all had strange markings and drawings of-"

"The wild cat?" Lance finished with a grin. Keith had half a mind to walk over and smear it off his face.

"Maybe that explains last night," Hunk revised, staring thoughtfully towards the floor. "Now I definitely know I heard something roar at me. I think Keith might be on to something."

Keith resisted pointing a smug look towards Lance and turned away, pressing Hunk's wavelength illustration up against the scatter of mountains he'd caught with his cameras. They matched to a perfect T. Eerily so. Keith looked back towards Hunk and felt himself smiling, the same as the other boy was, and it struck him to think he could actually be _getting along_ with a Garrison cadet. More inexplicable embarrassment. Keith lowered the paper and dropped his gaze away.

"Anyway," he said, clearing his throat because he felt like he had to. "I think we should go there. What do you think, Shiro?"

Silence befell the inner circle as all eyes turned to regard the man in question. He looked between them all, uncertainty and confliction warred on his face. For a moment, Keith feared he might make the valorous decision to dismiss everyone here and scrutinize the caves himself. He'd seen the way Shiro looked outside his house just moments before, ready to take the dive into an all out battle but hesitant to bring anyone willing to be at his side throughout all endeavors. Keith tensed, ready to pick a fight with him if need be.

"Alright," Shiro agreed, surprising him and meeting his eyes. "I think its our best bet in finding Voltron. Let's go search out the caves and see what we can find."

* * *

It hadn't taken much time at all, barely an hour went by and Hunk's _homemade Voltron tracker thing_ was completed and ready for use. Lance speculated he'd started working on it last night, which meant he'd flipped through Pidge's journal while the rest of them slept. It worried him as much as it influenced him. For once, Hunk was excited to dip his toes into the black, inky abyss of the unknown. But, after the chaos that had ensued just last night, sleep would have been a kind necessity for them all to have engaged in.

Lance was worried about Pidge, too. How questionably turned off of Shiro he seemed to be, how he'd immediately clamped up and shut down at the sight of him. Under normal circumstances, Lance would have pulled him aside to somewhere that brought Pidge some semblance of peace (the library, or the tree in the lunch yard being his two best bets). Then, using his charm like a secret weapon under his sleeve, he would have pried the truth out of him. Well. . .attempted to at least. Pidge had always been the toughest nut to crack, and he wouldn't discuss anything with anyone if he didn't have the absolute desire to do so.

Keith denied everyone the use of his hoverbike, so they made a trek towards the caves documented in his wild goose chase. The journey had been silent, but Lance's eyes continuously flickered back towards where Shiro and Keith walked side by side together. They'd always been irritatingly close. Although he'd always hated Keith, there must have been something admirable to his aura if someone as honorable as Shiro chose _him_ of all people to formulate a close bond with. Lance supposed, whatever the case, that this was still more time than he could have ever hoped to spend with the _legendary Takashi Shirogane._

They made it to the scattered caves in under an hour. Hunk was staring intently towards his tiny device, by now, his face scrunched up in determined concentration. "Perfect!" he shouted suddenly, startling everyone. "I've got something! Come on guys!"

Everyone followed his lead while he let the buzzing device in his grip lead them to destiny. They came across one of the entrances, Hunk's machine hummed and squealed excitedly and he took care to shut it off. "There is _definitely_ something inside of here," he said, looking eagerly towards his team.

"Wait a second," Shiro lifted his hands to hold everyone steady. "Let me go in first. Please wait here."

Everyone watched on with baited breath as he made his way down the stony path and towards the dark, alluring mouth of the cave. He disappeared through it and Lance bit his lip with impatient anticipation. He'd been cautious and doubtful of everything since it all started, but he couldn't deny the magnetic pull he had to whatever awaited them within. When he looked towards Hunk and Keith, they were clearly excited, worried, but didn't seem in any sort of rush to start moving again.

"Are you alright?" He flinched when he heard Pidge at his other side and turned towards him wide eyed. "You look a little. . .jittery."

Lance knew he couldn't explain this in full. Not without coming across as a hypocrite. He'd been the main source of mockery whenever anyone brought up _special feelings_ or _hearing voices_ throughout the ordeal. But he also couldn't deny that his heart was beating hard enough to rattle his rib cage. It was like he was about to meet someone he'd been waiting for his entire life, yet he couldn't put a face to the mixture of emotions.

"Shiro?" Keith's bothered tone stalled Lance from having to give an answer. He took a step forward, resolved to go in after him. Then, Shiro called back from within.

"You guys need to come look at this."

One by one they all filed into the cave and found Shiro brushing inquisitive fingers against the walls. They beared ancient designs, scarred from carvings of a wildcat bigger than men, dusted over from years of age. The thrumming of Lance's pulse was thunderous, he feared it might echo loud enough for everyone to hear.

"These are the special markings I was telling you guys about," Keith said, sounding a little breathless when he did. "They're everywhere. But I don't know what they mean."

Something rumbled beside Lance's ear, like an animal growling, and he turned to see his shoulder next to one of the hieroglyphs. It was the wild cat; maws parted in a silent cry of victory, unseeing eyes seemed to stab right through him. Leaning closer, Lance brought his hand to the image, wiping away the dust until it cleared. Something shot through him, as though he'd been electrocuted, and then the deepened lines of the drawings permeated with azure. The entire cave glowed vibrant as the other images did the same and Lance jumped back, squawking in astonishment, his back knocking hazardly into Keith.

"Lance, what did you _do?"_ he demanded. Not only was Lance short of an answer, he didn't exactly have enough time to offer one. The floor crumbled and broke with shivering blue light right beneath them and they plummeted straight through.

Lance screamed, he thought perhaps everyone else had too, but he couldn't hear anything over the rush of water. God, where were they _going?_ Much like a slide, Lance was spat out of a narrow opening and landed with a splash on his chest in a conveniently placed mote. He lifted himself up on his hands, throwing his hair back and away from his forehead, but he was initially shoved straight back down when Keith fell practically atop him.

Growling in annoyance, Lance shoved him back, forcing him to topple completely into the water. When he sat forward he bared his teeth, ready to hit Lance with a slew of furious insults and threats, but Hunk's fall diffused him when a gigantic wave sloshed up and over the both of them. Lance blindly fumbled his way out, thoroughly soaked and miserable because of it. He striped a hand roughly over his face and cursed all their names in Spanish, pushing the hair back and out of his eyes a second time to analyze their settings. He stiffened, blinking rapidly as though to clear what was standing directly in front of him.

A particle barrier glowed bright blue and stretched to occupy most of the cavern's space. Sitting center stage was the wild cat; magnificent, taller than all of them - than his own house even, made of glimmering metal and indestructible armor. Dormant yellow eyes pierced right through him, _seeing_ him, searing him with overwhelming excitement. He was _welcomed_ here.

"Is this. . .?" Lance looked over to see Pidge had joined his side, gripping the straps to his backpack as he gazed up towards the manifestation before them. "Is this the Voltron?"

"It has to be," Shiro reassured, Keith and Hunk tailed after him as he walked up and on to the shore. "What else could it be?"

 _"This_ is what was talking to you in your dreams?" Hunk looked incredulous, glancing sideways towards Keith, but he'd been effectively dumbfounded into silence. Voltron was _real_ and they'd managed to find it. However. . . something told Lance that particle barrier didn't strictly exist for show.

The magnetic pull tugged at him again, beckoning him closer, insisting upon his presence. Nervous, Lance defied it and took an awkward step backwards. "Do. . .do you guys feel alright?" he wondered, hoping dearly he wasn't the only one.

His question went ignored. Keith crossed the ground and headed towards the barrier without falter. Determined to not be upstaged so easily, Lance forgot his concerns and chased him. Keith pressed a hand into the sheer wall, but it refused to oblige. "It's some kind of force field," Keith murmured, examining it from top to bottom. "I don't think there's any way through."

"Bet you just gotta knock," Lance offered, reaching forward to rap his knuckles in a playful jibe. Keith panicked _unreasonably_ and reached out to grab his wrist, keeping him from making contact. Lance snapped an angry set of eyes on the boy, yanking out of his grip. _"What?"_

"How did you bring us here?" he demanded, shoulders set and fists furled at his sides. So familiar, always ready to spring and attack at the slightest provocation. It had barely taken a glance in his direction to set him off. The memory of a younger Keith suddenly assaulted Lance's mind; walking stiff and quiet, his eyes focused straight ahead, bearing everyone's hatred and distrust like a mild annoyance. "What did you touch?"

Lance returned his glower in earnest. "Uh, the _wall,"_ he replied. Keith shook his head.

"There's no way, I've touched those walls hundreds of times and that's never-"

"You can touch the walls all you like," Lance retorted with a languid shrug of his shoulders. "Touch all the walls. Get naked and rub against them. It doesn't _matter_ because you're not _me."_ He was all teeth when he smiled and lifted an index finger, just one, ready to prove some point. Of course, he wasn't sure what might happen were he _wrong_ and poking the barrier wouldn't actually verify to be of any use to them. However, he also didn't have an answer for what might happen were it to suddenly disappear.

He touched the tip of his finger against it. The force field parted suddenly from the top and opened towards the bottom. The ground underneath the machine, the _Voltron,_ started to glow in a repetitive pattern; alien gibberish that could have said anything. The eyes bloomed with yellow and the earth trembled from a force unknown. Lance couldn't breathe, couldn't move, entranced by the very sight of such an impossible brilliance. Then, he wasn't seeing it anymore.

 _Four more wild cats. . . No._ Lions. _They cut across the sky in primary streaks: blue, red, yellow, green, and black, until they met in the center. An explosion of light, and silhouetted among it was a man made of metal and armor. Wings spread like a plane behind his back, eyes made of chrome shimmered, like he was providing a dare of sorts, before he held open his palm. In it materialized a sword, its broad blade danced and shivered with the radiance of diminishing fire, he brandished it once and the image was smoldered. Faded to black. . ._

Lance nearly fell backwards as he blinked out of his reverie. Wild eyes flicked towards his comrades to find them gasping for air, hands to their chests. So then, they'd all seen the same thing. . .

"Voltron's a robot!" Hunk broke the fragile silence with the booming quality of his voice. "Voltron is a _robot._ A huge, badass, sword wielding, armor-plated robot!" His glee was contagious, and Lance couldn't fight back the grin of excitement that spread over his face.

"And this," Pidge went on, shuffling forward to gaze up towards the blue lion in a rare show of awe. "This is only one part of it. There's more lions out there, somewhere. On earth?" He looked helplessly to Lance and honestly, he wished he had some sort of answer to give.

Apparently, Pidge wasn't the only one who expected him to have a resolution to all of this. Keith crossed the space between, his arms thrown up in restlessness. "Where are they? Where are the other lions?!"

Taken aback, Lance felt his face _burn_ as his mind drew up a blank slate. "How am I supposed to know?!" he shouted back. Off to the side, Hunk cringed a little bit.

"Well, I mean. _You_ were the one who got the barrier to open."

 _"And_ you got us here in the first place." Keith added.

Lance had never refused an offer to be the center of attention whenever the moment arose for it, but this was impossibly overwhelming. "Yea but I don't know _how_ or _why_ any of that happened. I literally _just now_ learned about this, same as all of you!" Keith looked like he had a retort at the ready. but before he could deliver, the blue lion's eyes brightened to life; she creaked and whined as she shifted up to her massive metal paws. Her excitement was intoxicating; she was dazzled to meet him, _Lance_ specifically, and he felt a glimmer of astonishment that he could be so certain of that. Her head lowered and his company each squawked and stumbled backwards in surprise, Lance watched stiffly as her jaws parted and her innards pulsed bright azure. A miniature ramp extended right at his feet, but Lance thought perhaps he should tread carefully before willfully entering the belly of a beast.

He could _feel_ her gentle nudge in his mind, inviting him, insisting upon his trust. His body vibrated with unconstrained elation and he took an unregistered step forward.

"Lance, hold on!" Shiro's voice was heard, but the words ran straight through him. The lion squirmed through his brain and reassured him caution was unnecessary, urged forth his inner disaster. Reckless abandon. Grinning, Lance's own curiosity (and eager stroke of self-importance) diminished like the final smolders of a fireplace. His feet carried him towards a path of the unknown, guided only by sapphire lights and emotions that were not his own.

He was brought straight to her head. There at the center sat a lone pilot's chair, a black dashboard spread out before it. The lion pressed into his thoughts again, and he felt her lead him like the gentle hand of a mother. _Take the seat._ She tried to concentrate the electric energy in his veins with warm honey, sweeter than anything he'd ever experienced.

"Lance?" He heard Pidge's voice convey on an air of uncertainty, it kicked him from his dreamy reverie and he headed forward. His body collapsed into the seat and he smiled, thrilled, and then the chair abruptly shot forward. He gave a small shout of surprise as he was halted directly in front of the dashboard; darkness came flickering to light with simulated screens and readings on the lion's condition. The blank surface parted like the doors to an elevator and revealed back at him the complications of a control panel; a pilot's steering handles burst up like a jack-in-the-box, and Lance felt his fingers twitch with desire.

He was just beginning to reach for them when he was interrupted by a sharp intake of breath and a bitter _"hey!"_ that was sudden enough to startle him. His eyes traveled up as Keith joined his side and swatted away his inquisitive digits. "Don't touch _anything,"_ Keith hissed through his teeth. "You don't know what any of this is, and you probably _shouldn't_ be sitting in that chair-"

Lance's agitation was met with the lion's agreeable understanding, his own amusement curled his lips up into a smile. "Actually," he said, cutting off whatever Keith had been ranting towards. "I'm _exactly_ the one who's supposed to be sitting here. Maybe if you _listen_ to her, you'll realize that on your own."

"Listen?" Keith wondered, lifting his eyes to look analytically towards the ceiling. "Her?"

Lance's eyebrows shot up at the inquiry in his voice. The lion's thoughts and emotions filled him so quickly, like she were a piece of him that had been separated off years ago. Like they were exactly one mind, she was _talking_ to him. Hadn't this entire thing began with Keith? Why was it that he no longer had any grip on what was happening. _Shouldn't he be sitting here?_ The thought rose unbidden and layered him with acidity, the lion's sweet hush washed over him like a warm wave and he was surprised to feel his envy dissipate.

Keith met his eyes again and glared. "Let Shiro try."

Lance blanched and immediately opened his mouth to stutter his protests, but Shiro's voice followed Keith's declaration from behind him. "I don't know about that Keith," he said, drawing up to Lance's other side. "I mean, the lion seems to be. . .reaching for him? He says he hears her."

Lance pointed a smug grin at Keith's scowl while Shiro's hands extended slowly towards the control panel. His fingers didn't so much as brush against a button before the entire thing shrank back into the dashboard and the cover slammed over it, screens disappeared as quickly as they'd come. Bewildered, Shiro snatched his wrists back and smiled sheepishly down towards Lance. "Yea," he said with a fluid shrug of his broad shoulders. "As crazy as it sounds, I think this thing _wants_ you, Lance."

Lance buzzed with adrenaline and disbelief as he stared up, dumbfounded, at the man he'd idolized for years. His eyes flicked towards the dashboard and he reached out, all units of control and reports came back to greet his silent command. He smiled so hard, he thought his face might crack.

"Are you saying," Pidge said, leaning up against the back of his seat to stare at the gizmo, "that this thing is _sentient?_ That cannot be possible, its a machine. It was _created_ by _man._ Or, alien. Whatever. They have the ability to actually invent life in otherwise inanimate objects?"

"You're asking questions we don't have answers to," Keith pointed out, his arms crossed tight. "Right now, all we know for sure is that this thing talks and Lance is the only one who can hear it."

"Okay, first rule," Lance stated aloud, turning to regard everyone sternly. "Stop calling her _'this thing.'_ She's a lady and deserves to be treated like one."

"Did the lady tell you her name?" Hunk encouraged, always at the ready to support his friend.

At first, Lance smiled at him, enthused. But he immediately deflated when it occurred to him he had nothing to actually call her. "Oh, um." He pressed his index finger into his chin and stared thoughtfully towards his feet, the lion's soft amusement came to greet him, like her name should have been obvious to him. As though to give a clue, the dim lights all brightened to cerulean and momentarily filled the space, chasing away the shadows at every cramped corner, then returned to their lukewarm nature. Lance blinked rapidly, then smiled back at everyone.

"Blue," he said, and felt her approving vibrations rumble through him. "Her name is Blue."

"They're named after their colors?" Pidge made sure to sound unimpressed in case the wrinkle in his nose wasn't a clear enough indication. "Well, alright, whatever. Are we gonna go?"

"Go where?" Hunk asked, all eyes fell upon Lance and he turned a curious gaze down towards the control system. Nearly everything was neatly labelled, he supposed it might've been helpful had any of it been written in a language he understood. Come to think of it, he'd never even _seen_ characters of this shape; each one scrawled and cut across a white background in patterned lines that might've made up words, perhaps had even been useful instruction.

"Alright," Lance tried to mask the note of worry in his voice by cracking his knuckles. "So, first we'll, uh. . ."

Blue's gentle hum sounded like laughter in his head, his vision blurred around the edges until the only thing that graced his focus was the keypad glowing ivory against one of the screens. None of the keys were in English, but Blue guided his movements with perfect precision. Each time he reached for a button, he determined her reaction and verified which ones were correct. It took minutes, but the floor underneath his feet rumbled to life and his confidence was regained; the dark wall before him shimmered and blinked on, revealing a viewport. "Hey, I did it!"

"Okay, Lance," Shiro sounded weary. "Just take it nice and easy-"

Lance's hands shot out to grip the steering handles again and promoted Blue to her paws. The ensemble behind him each produced various sounds of unease at the jarring motion, Lance pressed forward and they shot upward, straight through the cavern's ceiling and up out of the deserts torrid ground. His comrades cried out; Blue landed heavily enough to rattle their bones and she took off running, her head turned up towards the sky.

"Lance slow _down!"_ Pidge exclaimed, his panicked hands furled into the weathered fabric of Lance's jacket and pulled fiercely.

"I can't!" Lance insisted, jerking the control handles in frenzied example. "She's moving on her own, its like she's on auto-pilot!"

Rockets blossomed out from beneath the center of her paws and Blue shot upward again, tearing through the air with her steely snout pointed straight. "Where are you going?!" Keith demanded and Lance tore his eyes away from the screen to spare him an irritated glare.

"What part of _auto-pilot_ did you not get?!" He replied over the excessive noises Hunk was making from behind everyone. When Lance glanced back to check on his friend, it was apparent he'd taken up hold of Shiro, eyes wild and bright with bloodshot horror. Impressively enough, Shiro seemed to be handling his hysteria with exemplary grace; gripping Hunk's massive hands with his own and squeezing in reassurance, though his eyes stayed glued to the viewport.

Blue burst through the atmosphere and, in mere seconds, the sky disappeared to an abyss of scattered constellations. Lance's eyes rounded in dismay as he realized they had, in fact, entered space. _Real_ space. Where there was no oxygen and many ways for you to die or be forgotten. The fact seemed to dawn on everyone as well, Pidge dragged the back of Lance's jacket towards his chest, unconscious whispers of _'oh my god, oh my god'_ brushed over Lance's ear and he desperately tried to recapture his sense of control. He jerked the handles with violent intent and internally begged the lion to return them at once. Blue responded to his turmoil, and Lance came to understand why she couldn't do that. He turned to regard Shiro in clear dismay and the other man perked a brow at him.

"It's you," Lance said, he felt Keith tense up beside him.

"Me?" Shiro asked, the dialogue seemed to stall Hunk's trepidation for a moment, his grasp around Shiro appeared to loosen enough to ease the white in his knuckles. "What are you talking about?"

There were so many thoughts coming to him at once, no words for him to register, but information nonetheless. Lance struggled to maintain composure under the pressure of it all, his brows furrowed in concentration. Blue was insistent that he act now, explain later. But if Shiro was in this much danger, did't he have a right to know about it? "It's, they were, I mean," Lance floundered for purchase. "They must have tracked the coordinates of the ship, its why they're coming to earth, or, er, escape isn't supposed to be _easy_ but you still-"

"Lance," Keith barked at him, startling him from the jumbled commotion of his mind. "What are you talking about?"

Lance wished he could tell him, but he didn't really _know._ "It's, I think it's the aliens who kidnapped Shiro. They're sending a ship to earth. They're coming back for _him."_

Lance turned back to the man in question and saw his skin had succumbed to pallor, face fallen from its stern bravery, his eyes said he'd gone somewhere none of them could follow. Keith practically lunged across Lance's lap, batting angry hands at Hunk as he bellowed _"get off of him!"_ Hunk seemed surprised, like he hadn't even realized he'd grabbed on to Shiro in the first place, and clumsily relinquished his embrace, mumbling soft admissions and shrinking away. The whole ship rocked them all forward as it slowed to a sudden halt. Keith pulled himself upright and Lance inhaled sharply when he saw the alien ship towering over them, flickering violet hues and aiming miniature canons their way.

"Holy _crap_ what the _hell-"_ Lance's vision fogged with terror and he blindly extended his arms to grab the control handles again, taking them into the center of his sweaty palms. The ship drifted closer, and then a brilliant purple spotlight shone down on the lion, hailing upon them. A voice came echoing from the ship, speaking a language none of them could follow. Lance judged, instead, the tone he was being addressed in, and decided immediately that the pilot aboard this ship was anything but friendly.

"Lance, dude, get us out of here!" Hunk insisted. Lance was about to reaffirm he could do no such thing, but Blue's warm caress gave him indication of otherwise.

Its like they shared a single body, joints and structure all connected together. She relaxed, and suddenly the controls were under _his_ command. Lance swallowed heavily, his grip around the handles tightened significantly. Through the haze of fear, and the whispered persistence from his friends - the alien gibberish being spoken to him through a speaker - Blue gave him information, a list of options. They had covered more distance in minutes than the Garrison's most advanced technological spaceships could hope travel in months. The ship in front of them was not their friend; they _would_ attack and take he and his friends captive if Lance remained frozen from the shock of it all. They could flee, return to earth, but this cruiser had been on its way to their planet as it was. They had been hunting Shiro, and would go through any means of getting him back. Now that they'd witnessed the blue lion's reactivation, they would battle tooth and nail for her as well. His final option, the one Blue was clearly leaning towards, was to fight.

Lance had always dreamed of becoming a fighter pilot. The only reason he had ever reached where he needed to go was simply because Keith had stepped back and given him the reigns. It had bothered him since day one, that the position pretty much fell into his lap, because a space needed to be filled and Lance just barely made the cut to do it. Blue had chosen _him_ to be her pilot. She had delivered them into space and brought him eye to eye with an unknown enemy, and her belief in him was irrefutable. She trusted him to be brave where, were this anyone else, they might've looked over his. There was always someone more suitable for the job, more trustworthy.

 _There is no one else._ Lance felt Blue's affection wash over him and his grip around the steering handles relaxed into a comfortable position. Though his heart beat like a mallet against his chest, a repetitive _thump thump thump_ that deafened his fears, he couldn't bite back the maddened smile that spread along his face. "Alright," he said, back straight and eyes trained on the target. "Let's see what you got."

* * *

 **A/N: Canon slowly begins to chip away in the next chapter. Our wild ride is finally beginning to commence!**


End file.
